A Question of Fate
by alllieee
Summary: SV S3. Angst, Romance, Action, Humor aw, come on... I can think I'm funny
1. Of Weddings and Heartache

-Of Weddings and Heartache-

The string quartet began to play the familiar song, and the people quickly hushed. Everyone in the crowd unabashedly swiveled in their seat to catch a glimpse of the woman who assumed her place beneath the rose-covered arbor. As she took her first step, the music began its graded build and the surrounding silence thickened. The world seemed to hold its breath as she gracefully crossed the grass, following the trail of rose petals.

Vaughn couldn't help but stare. She was so incredibly beautiful. No, that wasn't it. Beautiful didn't even begin to describe the woman who was walking in his direction. She was gorgeous. Proceeding down the aisle on the happiest day of her life, the smile on her lips was so incredibly wide he could see it light up her face underneath the opaque curtain of her veil. He was convinced that it was bright enough to light up the world.

He felt it the second before it fell, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. A single tear rolled down his cheek and spilled onto the ground. He knew Weiss would notice, and he was certain that he would be hearing about this later, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Vaughn hadn't been this happy in a long time, and he wasn't about to stifle any emotion he might be feeling, regardless of what his best friend would think.

As she reached her destination, the guests exhaled their long forgotten breaths. As her veil was lifted, Vaughn saw that she too had succumbed to the tears. The small drops trailed silently over her rose-colored cheeks and landed in the waves of her soft blonde hair. He had never seen a more stunning bride.

""

Sydney sat on her couch, contemplating the carton of coffee ice cream that, anticipating her mood, had of its own accord leapt out of the freezer and into her cart. She hadn't had dinner, but reasoned with herself that if she skipped the meal altogether, she could go straight to dessert. That made sense, didn't it? She stood up and zeroed in on the freezer, but a sharp knock at the door stopped her mid-stride. Dismissing the notion that it might be her conscience trying to intercept her frozen treat, she headed for the offending noise. As she swung the door open her mouth burst into an impressively wide smile.

"Hey there, Little Buddy!"

"Well, well… if it isn't the Skipper." Sydney looked down and her eyes lit up. "That better have pineapple on it." She smirked as she relieved Weiss of the pizza and headed for the living room.

"But of course. It's the only kind I could order that would go with your Coors Light. Leave it to you to make beer and pizza a fruity event." Weiss followed her into the house, cracked open two beers, and put the rest in the fridge.

"Hey, I've gotta be a girl every once in a while. I wouldn't want to give you a complex. It's bad enough that I can kick your ass…"

"…And you look better in rubber," Weiss interjected. "Yeah, yeah, don't remind me. I've heard it all before."

Sydney laughed as she dumped the pizza on the coffee table and went into the kitchen to grab some napkins.

"I wasn't expecting you tonight," She continued from the other room, "Aren't you supposed to be at a wedding?"

"It was an afternoon wedding. I've already put in my time. Are you saying you don't want me? Cause I can take my girly pizza and go home." Weiss stood up in mock hurt and headed for the door.

Sydney cut him off. "Don't even think about it. Now get your ass on that couch and do your thing," she ordered.

"Yes ma'am," he replied as he unceremoniously grabbed a slice of pizza and shoved more than half of it into his mouth. Sydney smiled to herself and did the same. Three slices later, she started up the conversation again.

"So, how was it?"

"How was what?"

She rolled her eyes before responding, "The wedding."

"Which wedding?"

Sydney groaned. "You know very well which wedding."

"Meh."

"Meh?"

"I'm not a big fan of weddings. I don't like dressing up."

"You wear a suit every day! What do you mean, you don't like dressing up?"

"Good point. Maybe I just don't like weddings."

"So, how'd she look?"

"Absolutely beautiful."

"Glad to hear it. I would expect no less." She hesitated a moment, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, "And how was Vaughn?"

Weiss grinned. "He was crying."

The tension drained from Sydney's body as she dissolved into a fit of suppressed giggles. "Really? Like, shedding tears?"

"Yup. Trickling right off the old cheek. I almost cracked up right in the middle of the ceremony. Poor emotional sap."

Sydney brought herself back under control before asking, "You think you'd cry in that situation?"

Weiss made a show of contemplating her question. "I don't think so. Would you?"

"Nah. But we're bigger men than Vaughn is," Sydney chuckled.

"Damn straight," Weiss proclaimed as he clinked his beer to hers. Upon hearing the sound, he realized that they both were empty. "You want another?"

"How could I refuse?"

A few beers later, and three-quarters of the way through _When Harry Met Sally_, Sydney looked over at Weiss, who was sprawled comfortably across her couch, fighting a loosing battle with sleep. "Hey, Eric?" Sydney mused, "You think manly men watch romantic comedies?"

He opened one eye and looked at her, "I'd like to think so." Seconds later, both eyes firmly closed as he snuggled deeper into the cushions and began to snore. Sydney smiled, reached for the afghan and draped it over his semiconscious form. She turned off the movie, hit the lights and headed for her dark and lonely bedroom.

""

"Michael, would you like to dance?"

He didn't even pretend to consider it. "No, Lauren, I'm sorry. I'm just not the dancing type. You know that." He noticed the irritated tone to his voice and wondered where it was coming from. He was supposed to be happy today. He _was_ happy today, he told himself.

"I know," she sighed, "I just thought I'd try. It is a wedding after all. People are supposed to dance." She turned back around in her seat and began to play with the remains of the food on her plate.

Vaughn looked around him. He saw so many happy people. Genuinely happy people. He mentally rolled his eyes. He couldn't help but be annoyed at them and their simple lives. No, that wasn't fair. It wasn't annoyance, he corrected himself, it was jealousy. He tried to remember back to a time when he was happy but stopped himself abruptly. He knew exactly where that would lead. Vaughn looked out the side of his eyes at his wife and involuntarily cringed. _What did I do?_ he thought to himself for the umpteenth time since he married her.

She spotted him from the dance floor and saw that look in his eyes. The same look she'd been seeing for the past year or so. The casual observer wouldn't give it a second thought, but she knew. Her big brother was far from happy.

She closed the gap and stood in front of him. She grinned before offering, "Hey there, handsome. Would you care to dance?"

Vaughn's eyes lit up at the sound of her voice. He looked up at her and nodded, taking her outstretched hand. He briefly thought of Lauren, but pushed the thought aside as he stepped out on the floor.

"What are you still doing here, El? Shouldn't you be off on the honeymoon already? I mean, you've been married for three hours now. You've put in the obligatory time with the guests."

Ella laughed, "Are you trying to cut our dance short? You're really not as bad as you think."

Vaughn grinned. His little sister knew him too well. And he loved her for it.

"Aha!" She announced, "I knew you could smile! I knew you had it in you!"

He looked at her quizzically. "What are you talking about? I smile."

"Don't try to fool me. I know you're not happy. I just don't know why you refuse to do anything about it." Ella knew her brother wouldn't like her meddling in his affairs, but she also knew that if she didn't, no one would. And she couldn't stand to see him so unhappy.

Vaughn groaned, "Not this again. We've already been over it."

"Exactly. Which is why I cannot figure out why nothing has changed."

"Not everyone can be as happy as you and Andrew, El."

"Maybe not," she replied, "But I know for a fact that you, Michael Vaughn, can be."

""

TBC if there's interest…


	2. Between Friends

Okay, here's the second chapter. Thanks to my beta for being a stud…and thanks to all of you who reviewed!

-Between Friends-

Vaughn looked at the clock beside his bed. 3:43am. Rolling onto his side, his gaze fell upon Lauren. She was sleeping soundly, laying there looking exactly as she always did. A profound feeling of emptiness tugged at the pit of his stomach. Lately, things had changed between them, and he couldn't really put a finger on why. He found himself avoiding her at work, and spending more nights at the office instead of at home with Lauren. She, too, was keeping odd hours. She was constantly running off alone on errands and trips to see her mother and numerous ailing relatives. Whenever he would offer to accompany her, she'd politely refuse. It seemed that there was a part of her life she just didn't want him involved in. He had briefly considered the possibility that she was having an affair, but soon discarded the notion as paranoid. Vaughn looked over and contemplated her for a minute, watching the way the moonlight made her features more stark. The hint of a smile spreading across her giant lips told him that she was sleeping peacefully. As petty as it was, those lips were really starting to irritate the hell out of him. Sometimes he had nightmares that her pasty white face turned into a pair of giant pouty lips that suctioned onto his neck, draining him of his soul. He shuddered at the thought.

Tonight, though, he wasn't awake because of his nightmare; he was awake because of his reality. He could not stop thinking about what Ella had said to him. She was right. He knew she was right. He could have the kind of happiness that his little sister had found. What's more, he was convinced that he could be happier than she was. He could be happier than anyone had a right to be. This flicker of hope, however, was quickly snuffed by the overpowering shadow of his constant demon: fear. He was afraid. Michael Vaughn, SuperSpy, was scared out of his mind. He knew exactly how to achieve this elusive happiness. What scared him was what it would take to get it. What scared him was that maybe Sydney wouldn't take him back. What terrified him was the thought of losing her again.

When he had thought he lost her… the pain was indescribable. It was the most catastrophic emotion that could possibly be experienced and it overwhelmed him with its suffocating intensity. It was the fear of that pain that continued to shakle Vaughn to his current status. Even if he could figure out a way to leave Lauren, and even if he could manage to get Sydney back, could he subject himself to the possibility of losing her again? Would he survive? It wasn't something he dared to think about. Raking a hand across his face, Vaughn tried in vain to shake the thoughts racing through his mind and go back to sleep.

""

Sydney woke up and looked at the clock. It was only quarter-passed six. She rolled over, buried her head in her pillow and tried to fall asleep again. It was Sunday and she didn't have to work, so that meant that she didn't have to get out of bed. She looked at the clock again. Three minutes had passed. Deciding that her efforts were futile, Sydney reluctantly hauled herself out of bed and stretched to ease the stiffness from her joints. As she headed toward the kitchen, she silently laughed at the melodious sound of Eric snoring on the couch. She secretly smiled to herself, loving the fact that he was there. As much as she hated to admit weakness, she absolutely could not stand being alone.

Eric awoke twenty minutes later to the sweet smell of someone else cooking breakfast. That, he decided, was one of the best smells in the world. He sat up and stretched.

"Morning, Sleepyhead," Sydney cooed.

"Hey Syd. Sorry I didn't make it home last night," he said with false resignation as he shuffled into the kitchen, poked a finger into the mixing bowl, and stuck it into his mouth.

"Don't be silly. I wouldn't have wanted to subject you to the thirty second walk." She grinned and handed him a cup of coffee.

"It's more taxing than you think," Weiss replied before changing the subject. "What's cookin?" he inquired as he gratefully sipped his coffee.

"Pancakes with fresh strawberries and whipped cream. You in?"

"Are you kidding me? I live for this kind of stuff." His mouth hung open and his stomach rumbled as if to prove his point. "Bring it on."

After breakfast, Weiss headed home and Sydney headed to the shower. In her quest to avoid spending the day by herself, she had scheduled the entire afternoon with Eric. It wasn't that should couldn't handle being alone, or that she didn't have anything she could do. But for some reason the idea of spending the day entirely without companionship was not in the least bit enticing.

""

Vaughn was sitting in the living room watching baseball when Lauren emerged from the bedroom.

"I thought you didn't like baseball," she commented as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

"I don't."

"Good. Then you won't mind turning off the television and coming to sit with me."

He searched his mind for an excuse, any excuse, that would get him out of spending what he knew would turn into 'quality time' with his wife. "Uh, actually, I was just on my way out."

"Oh, really? I didn't know you had plans. Where are you going?"

His mind raced. This was stupid. He shouldn't be making up reasons to get out of the house. He should be spending time with his wife on this perfectly beautiful Sunday morning. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Vaughn sifted through possible responses – church? No. Running? No. Eric? Bingo.

"I'm heading over to Eric's," he responded, after what he hoped wasn't too long of a pause.

"Oh, alright. I suppose I will see you for dinner, then," she said with mock hurt, which he chose to ignore.

"Sure. I'll see you later." And with that Vaughn grabbed his keys and phone, gave Lauren a quick peck on the cheek and headed out the door. He got into the car and started to drive as he punched the familiar number into his cell. Weiss picked up after the second ring.

"Hey there, Crybaby. Did you need some tissue?"

Vaughn rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Eric. It was my sister's wedding. Anyone with a soul would have done the same."

"You keep telling yourself that," he retorted. "What can I do ya for?"

"Actually," Vaughn began, "I was wondering if you wanted to do some manly stuff today. I need to get out of the house."

"Manly stuff? Like what? Hit our women over the head with clubs and drag them around the cave by their hair?"

"Eric, you don't have a woman."

"Hey, what are you saying?" he accused before continuing. "Wait! Yes, I do. I have a woman right here with me and boy is she a looker. Ooff. Hey, keep your elbows to yourself, you beast!"

Vaughn strained to hear the muted conversation.

"Beast? I thought I was a 'looker'!"

"Quit your whining and say something womanly," Eric pleaded. "Apparently I require proof that I can garner companionship of the female variety."

"Womanly?" Sydney replied. "What do you mean womanly?"

"I don't know. Talk about something only women would talk about."

After a few seconds and a lot of grumbling, Sydney came on the phone and began to speak. "So, two days ago I had the worst menstrual cramps I've had for years. Luckily, I had stocked up on my Super Absorbent tampons." Vaughn could picture her smirking and Weiss starting to sweat as she continued. "Let me tell you, absorbency makes all the difference in the world when you're…"

Weiss finally cut her off, "Okay, okay. I regret it, I regret it." He got back on the phone and took a deep breath to shake off Sydney's statements before asking Vaughn, "What were we talking about?"

Vaughn thought about it but couldn't come up with anything. "You got me," he finally admitted.

They sat in silence for a moment before Vaughn braved the topic that had truly captured his attention. He feigned indifference, "So, you're with Syd, huh?"

"Yup. We're on our way to the park to hit a few balls."

Vaughn faltered for a moment. Sure, it would be awkward, but it seemed like the only solution. There was no way he was going to go back home. He took a deep breath and tried to act casual as he popped the question, "You guys need an outfielder?"

"Always."

Vaughn thanked whatever power had allowed that answer to be in the affirmative and steered his car toward the ball field.

Weiss set down his phone before shooting Sydney a beseeching look. "Don't hate me, please? You know how much I hate shagging balls!"

Sydney looked at him a groaned. "You invited him to play."

Weiss' guilty face gave her all the answer she needed. She sighed as they pulled up to the park. She could have sworn she heard an audible flush as she visualized her day going straight down the toilet. _Crap_. She usually spent the weekend building up her walls, securing the moorings that sought to control her inevitable drift toward him. Without the benefit of that protective veneer firmly in place, Sydney didn't know if she could handle the consequences.


	3. Falling from Grace

And here is Chapter 3. Sorry it's taking so long. I've been busy, as well as fresh out of inspiration. Thanks once again to my beautiful beta and you who reviewed. I really appreciate the support!

-Falling from Grace-

Less than ten minutes later, Sydney watched as Vaughn emerged from his car. He looked incredible as always, clad in a tight gray t-shirt and jeans that appeared to have been made just for him. She silently hoped that her mutinous eyes would not be caught staring as she assumed her position on the pitching mound. Seriously, could the man please just have one bad hair day or something?

"Hey guys." Vaughn tried to act casual as stepped onto the field. Sydney looked delicious in her track pants and tank top. He loved her in sporty clothes. He loved her in formal clothes. He loved her in no… _damn it_. He reigned in that train of thought. _What are you doing? You're married, remember? Wife. Wife. Wife. _His new mantra, however, soon fell victim to Sydney's backside as she bent over to retrieve a ball. Vaughn firmly clenched his jaw to keep it from hanging open.

"Hey there, Teary," Weiss drew his attention, "You better get ready. These rockets that I'm about to hit are going to give you a workout." Weiss swung his bat at the air in a rough pantomime of a grand hit, following the fictional ball with his eyes. Apparently, the crowd went wild. "That is, if Bambi over here thinks she can throw the ball all the way over the mound."

Sydney's quick throw hit Weiss solidly in the gut. He inhaled sharply, causing Vaughn to laugh. "You know better than that, Eric. I think it was Confucius who said, 'Don't taunt those who can kick your ass'."

Weiss groaned and Sydney smiled proudly as she picked up another ball. "You ready, boys?"

Twenty minutes later, it was Sydney's turn at bat. Vaughn stepped up to the mound as Weiss reluctantly made his way into the outfield. Sydney hit each pitch with the solid swing of a veteran ball player. The satisfying crack as bat met up with ball was doing wonders for her mood.

Vaughn dodged to the left as another ball whizzed within a foot of his head.

"What's up, Syd?" Weiss called from the outfield. "You usually hit them all out of the park. What happened to that infamous ball control?"

"Just and off day, I guess." _Crack_. The next swing sent a high pop over the left fence. "Huh. You must have done something to my rhythm… Don't hurt yourself crawling over that fence, now."

Weiss snorted indignantly and clamored awkwardly into the briar patch that was far left field.

"Amazing recovery," he mumbled to himself as he picked a thorn out of his sock. "Note to self, harness Syd's powers for good, rather than evil."

Vaughn was up next. As he picked up the bat, they heard the unwelcome sound of three pagers going off in unison. Sydney reached hers first.

"Looks like we're done here," she sighed as she looked at the number on her pager. Vaughn and Weiss groaned audibly as they grabbed the equipment and trudged toward the cars.

""

Lauren was the first to arrive at the meeting. She sat patiently in her chair and watched as Jack strode purposefully through the door and took in his surroundings with a cursory glance before seating himself on the opposite side of the room from Lauren. The ensuing silence seemed to suck the air from the room and leave in its wake only awkward tension. Thankfully, Marshall soon stumbled into the room, followed by Dixon. It was still silent, but Lauren felt much more at ease when she was not alone with the elder Bristow. Dixon looked at his watch and sighed. Almost as if on cue, Vaughn, Weiss and Sydney poured into the room stifling their laughter at whatever they had been discussing on their way in the door. Lauren rolled her eyes.

"Now that we're all here," Dixon began, "we can get this meeting started." Sydney, Vaughn and Weiss took the three remaining seats and waited for Dixon to continue.

"We have recently become aware of the existence of a pivotal Rambaldi artifact. Intel suggests that the message contained in this device is of great consequence, and rumored to be called his 'Golden End.' Other than its importance and its name, however, we know nothing about what it might hold or what it could possibly mean. We must obtain this artifact." Dixon tossed folders to Sydney, Vaughn, and Weiss. "Agent Weiss, you will be on surveillance. Agents Bristow and Vaughn, you are to retrieve this 'Golden End'."

Lauren rolled her eyes. She was convinced that if she did it one more time they would roll right out of her head. The Bristow-Vaughn team made her physically ill. How was she supposed to keep them apart when it seemed that everyone else in the world was trying to bring them together? She sighed inaudibly. She would be much more effective at her job if she wasn't constantly worrying that her husband would lose interest in her.

Dixon looked at Marshall, alerting him to the fact that it was his turn to speak.

"Uh… hey guys." Marshall smiled, "Looks like you were outside, huh? Your cheeks are a little pink, Syd, you know, from the sun. I mean, I assume that's what did it. Not that pink is bad. I, uh… pink is definitely a good color on you." Sydney was turning pinker by the second. "Come to think of it," Marshall continued, "all colors…"

"Marshall," Dixon interjected, "why don't you tell them about the Op Tech."

"Oh, uh, right. Okay. So, this little baby right here," he grinned as he held up an object the size of a golf ball and that bore a slight resemblance to a pacifier, "is so that you can breathe underwater. You put your mouth on it, like so," he demonstrated, struggling to continue this lecture around the object stuffed in his mouth. Sydney strained to make out the words. "And you're good to go for about sixty minutes." Marshall spit out the device before continuing, "And this," he picked up the next item, "is a diving mask." He put the mask on his face and smiled a big goofy grin. "I don't know what kind of conditions you'll be expecting, so it comes with night vision capabilities, oh, and I also built a laser into the side, in case this golden thing is locked or something. You know, always be prepared. You know that… right Agent Vaughn? That's why they call you…"

Again, Dixon was forced to interrupt. "Thank you Marshall." He then turned to Sydney, Weiss and Vaughn. "You better start packing. The plane leaves for Greece in three hours." And with that, the meeting adjourned.

Sydney walked to her desk, sat down, opened the file Dixon had given her and sighed. Another day, another alias.

""

Lauren walked out of the JTF building and headed toward her car. Once she was securely inside, she picked up her cell and dialed. Three rings later, he answered.

"Hello Love. I wasn't expecting a call from the likes of you until later this week. Though I understand your desire to hear my voice, for the sake of your cover we should keep these conversations few," said the cocky, British voice.

"Don't flatter yourself, Julian," she snapped. "There's been a development."

""

Three hours later Sydney, Weiss and Vaughn were sitting on the plane headed for Thessaloniki. Once there, they would drive to Olympiada and the nearby ruins of Ancient Stagira. Only they were no longer Sydney Bristow, Eric Weiss and Michael Vaughn. They were now Kayla Cooper, Jonathan Brandt and Aden West. Although, the small size of Olympiada rendered the aliases almost insignificant. The rare visitor to this remote location was either the intrepid philosopher bound to see the famed birthplace of Aristotle or the odd archeologist. No, she thought, this mission would be incredibly free of conflict. The profile was to appear to be three friends on a tour of Greece making a brief stop in Olympiada along their way. They would stay there tonight, grab the artifact tomorrow and be safely on their outbound plane by evening. This mission would be a walk in the park.

At least the recon part of it would be simple, she thought to herself. It was the rest of the dynamic that was going to be difficult. The part where she was supposed to spend time with Vaughn, and act as though nothing was wrong; act as though she maintained some semblance of propriety; act as though she didn't want to drag him into that tiny airplane restroom and have her way with him; act as though her heart wasn't breaking. Not that she didn't have a lot of practice at this, because she did. She did it all day, every day. Come to think of it, how could her heart continue to break each and every time she saw him? Shouldn't it be completely shattered by now? Wasn't it?

­Vaughn's voice shook her from her reverie. "Hey, Syd, are you okay?"

Startled, she collected every ounce of eloquence that she currently possessed and replied, "Uh, yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I be?" _Practically Shakespeare_.

"I dunno. You just seem a little out of it." Vaughn sounded genuinely concerned.

"Oh, no," she assured him, "No, I'm fine."

"Oh, okay."

_Jesus, this was awkward_. Sydney looked over at Weiss, hoping he would throw her a life preserver – do something that would halt or at least slow her descent into this conversational quicksand. _Damnit_, she thought to herself as she gazed on Eric sleeping peacefully. She could almost feel Vaughn's appraising green eyes. He was waiting for something. A conversation? Maybe. But what should she say? She thought for a moment before speaking.

"How are you?" She winced mentally. _Yeah, that was well worth the wait_. _Idiot_.

"Oh, alright. You know, keeping busy."

This had to be one of the most mundane conversations that had ever taken place on the face of the planet. She cringed, knowing it was her turn to speak.

"That's good. I'm glad to hear it." She paused briefly, searching for the phrase that balanced enough interest in Vaughn with disinterest in personal issues that it could remain a safe topic. She had to handle this carefully. She had to choose her words so that there was no possible way the conversation could turn to the subject of Lauren. She wracked her brain. "Too bad they don't serve honey roasted peanuts on these CIA planes." _And the hits just keep on coming_. __

Vaughn looked at her quizzically. Weiss stirred beside them and grumbled, "Did someone say something about food?"

Both Sydney and Vaughn chuckled awkwardly as Weiss immediately drifted back into dreamland. And here Sydney remained – in hell.

"I didn't know you were so good at baseball," Vaughn broke the silence. "But then, I guess you always are the best at everything you do."

"Whatever." Sydney countered lamely; shooting another imploring look at Eric that was wasted on his unconscious form.

"No, seriously. You're such an amazing athlete. You know, you remind me of my little sister. She always kicked my ass in sports. I guess that's why I got so into hockey. It's the only sport that I managed to excel in when she couldn't." Vaughn was smiling to himself. "You should meet her, Syd, she's great."

"I'd like that. I'll put her on my list of your family members to meet. Right along side your mother and your crazy Aunt Trish."

"Maybe you should take Aunt Trish off your list. You never know what could happen when she's involved." He grinned before continuing, "But you should definitely meet Ella. You guys would get along royally. Maybe when she gets back from her honeymoon, you, Andrew, Ella and I could go out to dinner or something."

Sydney was perplexed. Shouldn't Lauren be on the guest list? Not that she was complaining. She was fairly certain that the sight of Lauren across the table would ruin any meal… but still. She was his wife.

"Yeah, I'd like that," she offered finally.

The next hour or so flew by, as Sydney and Vaughn slowly fell into their old comfortable pattern. Connecting with him was beginning to feel familiar again. It felt so good to just talk. For a while, she almost forgot that everything had changed between them and that he was no longer Sydney's Vaughn. He was Lauren's Michael.

""

Desperate cries for help bounced off the walls of the small plane. Vaughn and Weiss were jolted awake, their ears assaulted with fits of hysteria.

"No! No! Please, please don't… No! Stay away!" Sydney screamed as she tossed and turned violently in her sleep. She was shaking uncontrollably and drenched in sweat.

"Syd! Syd, wake up! It's just a dream, you're having a bad dream!" Vaughn tried desperately to shake her from her nightmare. She continued to sob, "Please! Please just don't!" He looked helplessly at the fragile form in front of him. He wanted to save her. He wanted to take the pain away. He wanted to pull her into his lap and rock the nightmares away. But he couldn't. Somehow he didn't have the right anymore.

Weiss reached across the seat and wrapped his arms around her as he whispered, "Syd, Babe, you're okay, you're okay." He pulled her into his chest and gently soothed her to consciousness. "You're okay," he repeated soothingly. "Shhhh…"

Sydney slowly calmed her breathing and opened her eyes. She looked like a frightened little girl, so vulnerable and so incredibly helpless. Tears trailed silently down her face and Vaughn was wracked with guilt. Not because he had made her like this. He hadn't. Or at least, he was fairly certain he was not the cause. But he was not the one to comfort her. He was no longer the one she could turn to. For the first time, he was hit with the realization that he was no longer her guardian angel. He watched from a distance as Weiss eased Sydney back to sleep and let slumber take him as well, his arms still securely fastened around her. Vaughn's heart wrenched at the sight of his best friend and the woman he loved nestled safely in his embrace.


	4. Depths

Thanks to my beta for her scuba and combat expertise. And thank you to all of you who reviewed!

(And a special thanks to Charrise for chapter titles one, two and three! )

-Depths-

"This is the most ridiculous idea you've had in a long time, Julian. It's incredibly risky." Lauren's tone was biting, but secretly she couldn't have been happier.

"Listen, Love, I need your assistance here. I can't do this by myself and you know it." A smile spread across his face before he continued, "Besides, I rather enjoy your company."

Lauren didn't respond as she set down her bag and headed purposefully towards Sark. The extra sway to her hips spoke clearly of her intent. She was three feet from him when he put up his hand to stop her.

"Are you sure that you don't want to run to your dashing husband? He is just down the street, after all. I'm sure he wouldn't mind a quick conjugal visit. That is, unless he's too busy pining for Bristow."

Rage flared in her eyes, but her tone remained even, "Don't mention that fool to me, you know how I despise him. He can have his precious Sydney… that is, if I let her live." The glint in her eye turned predatory as she continued her advance toward Sark. This time he didn't stop her.

He loved the way her mind worked.

""

Syd, Weiss and Vaughn sat huddled around a corner table in a small café, going over the final details of their mission. Sydney's brow creased as her head bent over a map of the local coastline. A single lock of hair fell into her eyes.

Vaughn noticed immediately, but fought the urge to sweep it back in place for her. No, it would be best if he kept his distance, didn't touch her. Who knew unruly hair could play such hell on his resolve?

The waiter approached them as they were preparing to leave. He carried a single rose in his hand and wore an effusive smile on his face.

"For you," he declared with a flourish as he presented the rose to Sydney. He tilted his head toward the rear of the café where a handsome young man was seated at a small table. "Your beauty has caught the eye of our Nikkos."

Sydney flushed and Vaughn's heart sank as he turned to see a veritable Greek Adonis. He was dark, muscular, and, with Vaughn's luck, a descendent of Apollo himself.

"My god, Syd, that's the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on. Can I go out with him if you don't?" Weiss piped in as Vaughn shot him a glare that would have killed most mortals.

Sydney's face flushed a deeper shade of red as she gave a short nod to Nikkos in appreciation for the gift.

""

"Could she be any more shameless?" Vaughn erupted as he paced back and forth, wearing a hole in the floor of the room that he and Weiss were sharing.

"Could you be any more annoying?" Weiss groaned, as he rolled to one side of the bed, making room for Vaughn.

"Didn't you see her out there? She was flirting with that sleazebag!"

"So? The girl is entitled to do whatever the hell she wants."

"She is not! This is a mission! We are supposed to conduct ourselves accordingly!" He fumed while violently searching through his suitcase to locate his pajamas.

"She thanked the guy for giving her a rose. Even if that was flirting, she's not compromising the mission. Now if you don't calm down I'm going to switch rooms. Which may not be a bad idea, considering I'd rather share a bed with Sydney than you any day." He briefly contemplated the notion that Sydney might be sharing a room with Nikkos, but opted not to mention that. The more vesuvian outburst from Vaughn, the less sleep for him. Weiss closed his eyes as Vaughn threw himself into the bed with an exasperated huff.

"And don't even think about spooning me," Weiss warned. "If I wake up and there is less than two feet between us, there's going to be trouble."

""

"Piece of crap!" Weiss irately threw the equipment into the sand. It landed with a soft _thunk_. "Damnit! I was hoping that would have made a louder noise. It wasn't nearly as satisfying as an angry and violent throw should be."

"Well," Sydney sighed, "I guess we'll just have to do without surveillance. There's no time to get new equipment." She looked at Vaughn. "Let's just get this thing done." He nodded in agreement.

"Alright, you two. I guess you're going in blind, then. I'm sure you'll be fine." Weiss patted Sydney on the back and handed her a mask. "Besides," he continued, "This gives me some time to explore that ice cream stand I saw down the road. Mmm… triple chocolate Delta cones. I'm drooling already."

Vaughn rolled his eyes. "While you go get your ice cream, we'll just be in the depths of the sea saving the world."

"Thanks buddy," Weiss smiled and walked in the direction of the chocolate without a backward glance.

Sydney and Vaughn looked briefly in his direction then grabbed their gear and strode purposefully into the surf.

After ten minutes of swimming, they knew they were close. The coastline's topography lent itself well to secreting anything smaller than a human being. The sea floor was littered with huge blocks of black rock, interspersed with places where the overlapping piles gave way to smooth silt and sand. The minimal sunlight that filtered through to this depth lay eerily upon the ghostly rocks, creating impossibly black shadows that stretched along the sea floor.

They could not be far from the artifact. Sydney swam slowly along the bottom for fear of missing the entrance. The surrounding rock was cracked and split in numerous places, but the crack directly in front of her caught her eye. She looked again. There was something wrong with the perspective in that crack. She swam slowly toward it, and when she was right up to the rock, she saw what it was. One edge stood out almost two feet from the other side, and there was an opening that ran back into the rock. It seemed to go no more than two or three feet and ended in a blank wall. Staring more intently, she saw that it actually wound deep into the rock. Sydney and Vaughn slipped quickly inside, careful not to brush against the sharp walls that surrounded them.

The tunnel lasted almost twenty yards before the close confines gave way and they found themselves in an open cavern. Even as the beam from Sydney's headlamp passed over the delicate wooden chest, Vaughn began to swim toward it.

Though firmly wedged to the outcropping, Vaughn made quick work of the impediment with Marshall's laser cutting device. _Marshall_, Sydney thought to herself. _How does that man always know intuitively what technology they would need to complete a mission? If he could forgo the government retirement plan and benefits he could make a fortune as a soothsayer. Yep, I can definitely see him with a crystal ball and some big hoop earrings…_

A niggling tinge of fear cut short Sydney's musings. Something wasn't right.

Slowly and methodically she began a visual sweep of the cavern. The deep umbrae cast by her solitary light source only added to her trepidation. She couldn't see a damn thing.

It wasn't until she angled to return to Vaughn that she saw them. Two dark-suited divers emerged from the blackness behind him. Before Sydney could even make a sound, one of the figures delivered a sweeping blow to the back of Vaughn's head. Sydney looked on helplessly as he slumped unconscious over the chest, his breathing device floating quietly into the sand of the sea floor.

The second intruder was approaching her rapidly. She reached for her dive knife and with one powerful kick she lunged at the figure. Cutting wickedly with the blade, she felt it strike and glance off his air tank, and then they were in a clinch. Time seemed to slow as she locked eyes with her adversary. _Sark._ _Bastard. _He jerked and she fought to maintain her hold on him.

Sark's accomplice came in from her left, attempting to dislodge Sydney's breathing device. She ducked under the swing and delivered a sharp elbow to the gut. Her hand found the weight belt release and gave a quick tug. As the belt fell away her opponent's altered buoyancy sent them shooting to the top of the cavern, effectively removing them as a threat.

Sark took advantage of her distraction and twisted free from Sydney's grasp, simultaneously reaching for his weapon. Sydney was faster, halting his movement by driving her shoulder into his chest. Again they grappled, but this time Sark had the advantage as they attempted to neutralize their respective weapons.

She didn't have time for this. How long could Vaughn last without air? The seconds ticked away mercilessly in her head as she struggled with Sark.

With all of her strength, she jerked her knife upwards. The cutting edge made contact with a hose. Hissing air bubbles suddenly flooded her vision as Sark released his hold immediately, grasping wildly about for his alternate regulator.

Without a second thought she swam toward Vaughn. He was still unconscious. She needed to get him out of here. She needed to get him oxygen. _Shit_. Where was his breathing device? There was no time to look for it. She quickly thrust her own into his mouth.

No response. She pressed her mouth to his and gave him a short burst of air before locking an arm around his chest and starting toward the tunnel.

Sark and his accomplice had vanished, along with the chest. Sydney couldn't be bothered with that now. Nothing would matter if she couldn't get Vaughn out of there.

Once free of the cave, she burst to the surface with a deep, gasping breath. She drug Vaughn's head out of the water a half second later, and to her horror saw that he wasn't breathing. Sydney struggled to keep Vaughn's head above water while maneuvering into position to perform mouth-to-mouth.

One breath. Nothing. Second breath. Nothing. Then, suddenly, Vaughn began coughing violently. At least he was alive. She grabbed the material at the back of his neck and kicked toward the shore.

Ten minutes later, with one arm firmly locked around his waste, Sydney drug Vaughn from the surf. He slumped to the sand on all fours in another fit of coughing. Sydney collapsed beside him, still sucking in large gulps of air and attempting to slow her racing pulse.

Vaughn rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. He reached blindly for Sydney, grabbing her around the wrist and pulling her towards him. His arms snaked around her back and he drew her in tight to his body. She sunk into him willingly, needing to reassure herself of his presence. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and fought valiantly against the tears that began to prick behind her eyelids.

He held her closely as his hand stroked from the crown of her head to the small of her back, lifting only to make the trip again.

"Thank you." The hoarse voice that came from him was barely recognizable.

Sydney's only response was to bury herself deeper into his embrace.

"You saved my life, Syd. Thank you."


	5. Downtime

Downtime

Sydney, Vaughn and Weiss stood in the hallway wearing matching scowls. The conference room in the JTF building had just emptied out after finishing a two hour early morning debrief in which they concluded that they had no leads and that there was nothing they could do.

"How the hell did he know where we were?" Vaughn erupted as he began to pace. "How did he get to us?"

"I don't know," Weiss answered, "but we're going to have to find out." With a mischievous twinkle in his eye he drawled, "You know, this actually reminds me of a joke."

Vaughn cut him off bitterly, "Please, Eric, spare us."

"No, seriously, this one's a good one," Weiss grinned, attempting to coax his friend out of his lousy mood.

Vaughn looked at him skeptically and continued to pace. "That's what you always say."

Weiss' eyes narrowed, "And I'm always right."

"Keep telling yourself that," Vaughn retorted, only slightly under his breath.

Unfazed, Weiss plowed forward, "So, anyway, what is a zombie's favorite kind of street?"

"Kind of street? What the hell does that mean?"

Weiss tried again with the exaggerated patience that a mother would use to explain to her five year old why he couldn't flush a rubber duck down the toilet. "You know, like the type."

Vaughn halted abruptly. He folded his arms and glared at Weiss. "Yes, type and kind are synonyms. Thank you."

"No, like which particular street do zombies prefer?" Weiss stood firm, squaring his shoulders and regarding Vaughn with a neutral gaze.

"You want the name of the street?"

Weiss shot him an incredulous look. "No, for heaven's sake. I want the kind of street!"

"Like asphalt?"

"No, not asphalt!"

Vaughn dropped his arms in defeat. "I don't get it. Is this supposed to be funny?"

"It was going to be funny," Weiss sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "but I think it lost all humor when we started talking synonyms."

"So what was the punch line?"

"Forget it," Weiss said flatly.

Exasperated, Vaughn looked over at Sydney, who had been quietly watching the exchange. She was grinning.

"What are you laughing at?" he asked sharply.

Sydney assumed an innocent demeanor, although her eyes were dancing. "Dead ends."

Vaughn groaned and shook his head before stalking off in the direction of his desk.

Weiss put a companionable arm around Sydney and escorted her to hers. "So, how's my little sugar dumpling?"

She looked at him and sighed, "Frustrated. I can't believe I let Sark get away with that device."

"Come on, Syd, it wasn't your fault," Weiss consoled her with a soothing pat on the shoulder. "We all know that. We'll just have to get it back."

"With no leads?" She gave him a sideways look. "We're at a zombie's favorite kind of street, for heaven's sake!" Sydney nudged him and they both smiled.

"That's my girl. A keen sense of humor."

She shoved him towards his desk and shouted playfully after him, "Go to work!"

""

Three hours later, Vaughn closed another folder and sat back with a sigh. He had made no progress toward either uncovering the location of the artifact or the more concerning development that Sark had somehow been one step ahead of them. Grimly, he refocused on the papers strewn haphazardly across his desk. What had he been thinking taking his anger out on Sydney and Eric like that? He leaned forward, rubbing his tired eyes. He was an ass; there was no question about it. Well, that would change now. Resolutely, he reached for the phone and dialed.

"Hello?" came the voice on the other end.

At the sound of her voice, he smiled. "So how was it?"

"The sex? It was great."

Vaughn rolled his eyes and interrupted, "Don't tell me that! I didn't mean that and you know it. You disgust me, by the way."

Ella laughed. "Yeah, I figured that wasn't what you meant, but I thought I'd inform you anyway. Think of it as a public service announcement."

Vaughn sighed heavily but couldn't fight the smile that tugged at his lips. Her humor was infectious. "So, are you going to tell me all about it?"

"I certainly plan to. How about dinner?"

"That would be perfect." He leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk, wedging the phone to his ear with his shoulder. "Can I bring someone?"

"Uh… yeah, dork. I figured Lauren would come."

Vaughn hesitated, toying absently with the phone cord. "Actually, there was someone else I would like you to meet." His next words tumbled out in a rush, "I was going to bring Sydney."

There was a brief moment of silence. When Ella finally responded her voice held a hint of uncertainty, "Of course. Yeah, bring whomever you want." She paused warily. "Are you and Lauren…"

"Oh, no, we're fine," he hastened to explain. "I just thought you'd like to start meeting my friends. What with you living in LA now and all." He sounded defensive, even to his own ears. He silently hoped that she would let his feeble justification slide.

"Right. Okay. Yeah." Ella backed off in surrender. This would most certainly be a topic of discussion later. "Well, I'd invite you to the new place but we haven't had a chance to do much unpacking."

Jumping at the shift in topic, he offered quickly, "How about _Jonathan's_? Six-thirty. I'll make reservations."

"Works for me."

Vaughn released the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Alright. We'll meet you two there. I just hope Syd's free."

"You haven't asked her yet?" Ella groaned. Vaughn had visions of her beating the phone against her head and wishing it were a brick wall.

"No," he said a little uncomfortably, "Why?"

"You're such a dork."

"I am not a dork," he glared at her through the phone, knowing she couldn't see him. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this, "you jerk."

"Really mature, butthead," she teased.

"Oh, and you're the shining example of maturity," he countered good-naturedly.

"I'm hanging up now." And with a soft _click_ she was gone.

Leaning back at his desk, Vaughn caught sight of Sydney across the room, her head in some papers, concentrating intently on whatever it was that had her attention. He ached to leap from his chair, close the distance between them and take her in his arms. _Well, that probably wouldn't be appropriate at the office._ Gathering his courage, he stood and made his way towards her. No time like the present.

When he reached her he stopped just outside of her line of vision, waiting for her to notice him.

She looked up without really seeing, "Vaughn. Did you find something?" she asked distractedly.

"No. Not yet, anyway." He paused. This was it. Now, today, this minute, he would ask her to have dinner with him. To meet his family. To bring together the two most important women in his life. _Jesus, Mike. Do you think you're being a tad melodramatic?_

"Vaughn?" Sydney asked, interrupting his internal monologue. _Pull yourself together. She's going to think you're crazy if you just stand here gaping like a fish._ He searched her eyes for annoyance, but found only compassion mixed with curiosity. If it was possible, his heart swelled even more.

"Sorry," he tried for an air of nonchalance while watching her anxiously, "I was just wondering if you had plans for dinner." He wondered absently if she could hear his heart pounding in his chest.

That stymied her for a moment. Sydney looked up at him perplexed. If he weren't so nervous, he would have laughed. He loved it when he threw her off balance like this. "I…"

"You know," he interrupted, forestalling her obvious intent to decline, "because you said you wanted to meet Ella, and we're having dinner tonight. So I thought you should come." He spoke softly, his voice filled with both hope and hesitation.

"Oh." Relief flooded her eyes at finding an explanation for the offer. "I would love to, but I think I should probably stay here and keep working."

"You are going to have to have dinner sometime," he cajoled, deciding not to care about the pleading tone in his voice.

"I can just grab something quickly though and…"

His imploring eyes stopped her more effectively than could the most eloquent argument. Considering, she narrowed her eyes, chewing lightly on her bottom lip. She nodded slightly, "Sure. I'll come."

"Great," he smiled broadly, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "I'll pick you up at six."

""

Vaughn entered his house and was immediately welcomed by an enthusiastic Donovan. He bent over to greet his faithful companion as he scanned the room for his wife. Lauren appeared a moment later wearing an apron and wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

"Hey, Lauren. Where were you? I've been trying to get a hold of you."

"I was out at the store. I must have forgotten my cell phone at home." She approached him to plant a chaste peck on the cheek before turning to walk back into the kitchen. She spoke over her shoulder, "I was just about to start dinner. I hope you're hungry."

Vaughn winced. This was not going to be fun. He cleared his throat and spoke loud enough that she could hear from the other room, "Actually, I've got plans for dinner this evening. That's why I was trying to call. I wanted to tell you not to make dinner."

Lauren stuck her head through the kitchen door. "Oh. What plans?" she asked brightly.

"Well, Ella's back from her honeymoon, so I thought it'd be nice to catch up with her. We're meeting at _Jonathan's_ at six-thirty."

"Six-thirty?" Lauren looked at the clock on the wall. "That doesn't give me much time. I'll have to shower quickly." She began to unfasten her apron as she took a step toward the bedroom. "You don't mind if I use the bathroom before you, do you?"

Oh, man. This was definitely not going to be fun. "Well, I… I didn't make plans for you to go, actually. I… she… well, Sydney's coming. She wanted to meet Ella, so…"

Lauren stopped his halting explanation with an incredulous glare. "Sydney?! Sydney is coming? You're going out to dinner with your sister and your dead ex-girlfriend? You're leaving me at home and having dinner with SYDNEY?" Making no effort to cover her anger, she crossed her arms and scowled ferociously.

"It's not like that, Lauren," Vaughn shook his head, becoming defensive. "Sydney and I are friends. Things haven't been going that well between us and we need to work things out," he struggled to explain, "I just thought that it would be a good way to…"

"To be able to leave me at home and go to dinner with Sydney?" she demanded.

"No, I'm not thinking of it that way, it's just… I'm just going to dinner with a friend. You never want to go with me when I go with Weiss. I don't know why Sydney would be any different."

"Sydney and Eric are completely different."

She did have a point, he mentally conceded. If he looked at the situation rationally, there was really no valid reason that he should be taking his ex-girlfriend, the once love of his life, to enjoy an evening out with family rather than his wife. But the problem was that there was nothing rational about the way he felt around Sydney. And there was nothing rational about the tension that immediately set in his shoulders when he was with Lauren. Unwilling to delve any deeper into that psychological quagmire, he persisted with the main thread of his argument, "Not really. They're both my best friends."

"You don't expect me to believe that, do you?"

Now he was frustrated. "Yeah, actually, I do," he ground out stubbornly. "Sydney and I were friends before anything else and that friendship shouldn't have to be lost just because… well, because."

Lauren narrowed her eyes. "Because of me?"

Silence descended on the room and Vaughn gazed awkwardly at the floor. "Well, indirectly…"

"That's it!" she exploded, flinging her arms in the air. "We're not discussing this anymore. I'm going to go now. Somewhere. With someone! And I'm going to get dinner!" She pointed an accusing finger at Vaughn. "We will discuss this when you get back." With a quick pivot, she stormed out the front door, her apron still around her neck.

""

Sydney glanced at the clock for what had to be the twelfth time in the last half hour. She only had a handful of minutes until Vaughn would be there. She placed a hand on her stomach to calm her fluttering nerves. Why was she so nervous? She had been out to dinner with Vaughn countless times before… only something felt different about this. Something in their relationship had shifted in the last few weeks. She forcibly banished those types of thoughts. _ This is not a date_. The man is married. He only invited her because his sister is new in town and needs to meet some people. And because he wanted to make sure she ate dinner and took a break. Because he cares about whether…_ no. Focus!_

She applied one more swipe of mascara to each eye and then took a step back to look in the mirror and assess her handiwork. She was wearing charcoal slacks with black pinstripes and a lightweight long-sleeved fitted sweater. Nice but not 'date-ish.' She looked good, but she did not look like she was trying. _Because I'm not. _

Her thoughts were cut short by a knock at her door.

She swung it wide and found herself face to face with a smiling Vaughn. He was absolutely stunning. The only thing that kept her jaw from crashing to the floor was sheer determination.

It was going to be a long night.

""

When they arrived at the restaurant, Ella and Andrew were already seated. They stood up in greeting, offering hands, hugging, and making introductions before resuming their seats.

Ella quirked an appraising brow as Vaughn guided Sydney to her chair with a hand at the small of her back. If Vaughn noticed, he pointedly ignored her.

"So?" Vaughn asked Ella, heading off a potentially awkward line of questioning.

"So what?"

"Don't give me that." He shook his head in mock exasperation. "How was it?"

She relented, "It was beautiful. White sand, blue-green ocean, a rainbow of tropical flowers…"

"Sounds amazing," Sydney interjected.

Andrew laughed, "Yeah, it would have been even more amazing if it wasn't pouring every single day. The postcards looked nice, though."

"Yeah," Ella agreed, "we did spend a large portion of the trip in our suite and the hotel bar."

"Well," Sydney smiled, "I would assume most couples do that on their honeymoons anyway."

She grinned. "That is true," Ella said with a hint of devilment, "But I had this great plan that we would go to one of those secluded waterfalls, like in those shampoo commercials? You know, with the pool of water underneath it? And there would be no one there so we'd…"

"Alright," Vaughn interrupted, indignantly stuffing his fingers in his ears in a surprisingly accurate imitation of a pouting child, "that's about enough of that."

Ella shot Sydney a grin. "Seriously, the man is so squeamish. You'd think he was a fifteen year old boy who thought girls have cooties."

"You are my sister. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you are condemned to a life of cooties as far as I'm concerned."

The waiter arrived and took their orders for dinner. Vaughn also ordered a bottle of wine, thinking that Sydney might enjoy it. Every time he saw the stuff he would think of her… surrounded by flickering candlelight… in the bathtub…

"So, Ella," Sydney spoke up from across the table, "Vaughn tells me you're quite the athlete."

"Well, anyone is 'quite the athlete' as compared to my big bro." Ella giggled and nudged Vaughn, "He's a regular old candy-ass."

"Seriously, Ellie. How old are you? Seven? We're at a nice restaurant, drinking fine wine, and you've resorted to name-calling? How long were you cooped up in that room anyway?"

Ella laughed, "See? He doesn't even defend himself! He just changes the subject. Typical candy-ass behavior."

"That's it," Vaughn said with an incongruous amount of determination, "You're on."

"I'm on?" Ella was still laughing, "On what? The pill? Back to sex, are we?"

He ignored the last part of her statement and continued on his rant, "The gauntlet has been thrown. I accept your challenge."

Ella smiled as she turned and whispered conspiratorially to her husband, "I think the next thing he is going to say is 'My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.'"

The glower Vaughn shot her only made her laugh harder. "No, I'm serious. We're going to decide who is the better athlete. Tonight."

"Yeah?" Ella asked dubiously. She grabbed her bag and made a show of riffling through it, tears forming in her eyes from laughing so hard. Then she dramatically looked up at Vaughn, "Gee, Mike, I think I left my table football in my other bag!"

Sydney reached across the table, grabbed a sugar packet and tossed it to Ella. "Here, use this!"

Andrew attempted to impose upon the table at least some semblance of composure and propriety. "Alright, children, lets settle down. We're on the verge of creating a scene."

They had managed to calm themselves by the time their food arrived, settling into a more 'adult' conversation for the rest of the evening. Vaughn smiled to himself as he leaned back from the table in utter contentment. He was right. Ella and Sydney had fallen into comfortable conversation as though they were long lost relations. Something about that just seemed so _right_.

After dinner, they stood together in the restaurant parking lot, huddled against the chill. Ella stepped toward Vaughn to give him a hug goodbye and was startled when he dismissed her attempt with a wave of his hand.

"What're you doing?" He asked, disapprovingly. "This isn't goodbye. We'll see you in thirty minutes at the rink."

Ella groaned, "You've got to be kidding me."

"Oh no," Vaughn continued, "I told you we'd decide this tonight. Be there or be forever labeled 'candy-ass.'"

"You really think you and Sydney can take us?"

"My dear little sister," he announced swaggeringly as he wrapped an arm around Sydney, "you greatly underestimate the power of this woman." He hoped the small catch to his voice didn't give him away.

But his sister was more perceptive than he would have hoped. "Oh yeah?" She chose to let him off the hook, "Well, Andrew is more muscled than he lets on. Aren't you, baby?" she cooed, batting her eyelashes.

Sydney, swamped by Vaughn's questioning eyes which hung somewhere between challenge and promise, accepted both.

"Well then, I guess we're on."

Two hours later Vaughn pulled up to Sydney's house and quietly shut off the engine.

"We should definitely have a rematch."

Sydney laughed. "I don't know, Vaughn, I'd say we beat you boys fair and square."

"You think we were going all out? Not a chance," he scoffed, defiant. "We were taking it easy on the ladies. Next time we won't be so generous."

She smiled, something warm and happy settling over her as they slipped into their playful banter, "Can't you just be happy that you and I beat them in the first game?"

"Yeah, I guess we do make a pretty great team, don't we?" As they sat together in the comfortable silence of the car, their laughter wore into a muted glow of intimacy.

Still smiling, she lightly patted his hand. "Goodnight, Vaughn," she said softly.

As she reached for the door handle he touched her arm. "Syd."

She turned around and looked at him, a mixture of curiosity and expectation in her eyes.

"I just wanted you to know that I had a wonderful time," he said, just above a whisper. "Thank you for coming tonight, it meant a lot to me to have you meet Ella and… I had the best evening I've had in a long time."

"My pleasure." Her answering smile, soft and shy, made his heart skip a beat.

""

A/N: So, I've got the rest of this pretty much worked out, but I'd like your input. What has been working? What hasn't? What do you want to see more of? Less of? _Who_ do you want to see more of or less of? More action? More drama? More humor? The possibilities are endless…


	6. Breakthrough

Thanks for all the feedback/suggestions. I'm definitely taking them into account. Please keep it coming!

-Breakthrough-

"I don't love her."

"Good morning to you too, Mike."

"I'm serious, Eric. I've got a major problem here."

Weiss looked up from the papers he was reading and saw Vaughn's disheveled form. It looked like he hadn't slept in days, and the last time he had slept he must have been wearing that suit. His shirt was rumpled, his tie was crooked, his face was scraggly and the look in his eyes was a jumble of sadness and pain. He looked like hell. Knowing a long conversation was in order, Weiss grabbed Vaughn's arm and led him to a quiet corner so that they could have the privacy that his desk did not allow.

Once they were securely out of earshot, Weiss turned to Vaughn, "I have a guess, but would you like to clarify exactly _who_ you don't love?"

"Lauren. I don't love Lauren," Vaughn sighed as he raked his hands through his hair, leaving a spiky trail in its wake. "And what makes it worse, I don't know if I ever have." He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned his back against the wall. He immediately stood back up. "No, that's not true. I did love her. But I was never _in love_ with her." Satisfied that he had sorted things out, Vaughn resumed his position against the wall. He looked at Weiss anxiously, "You know what I mean?"

"I guess…" Weiss mulled it over for a moment, "Like what you feel for your mother compared to how you feel about Donovan?"

"Exactly, its like..." Vaughn started and stopped abruptly, "No! Wait, no!" He groaned, "Eric, you're not helping. This is not a joking matter."

"No, my friend, this is not," Weiss agreed as he leaned a shoulder against the wall and sighed contemplatively. "This is a gigantic problem. Huge. Massive. Colossal, in fact. What you have here is a problem of epic proportions."

"That's not helping either," Vaughn choked out, his voice strained by desperation.

For once forgoing sarcasm in favor of sincerity, Weiss surrendered. "Well, what do you want me to do?" he asked honestly. "I can't really solve this thing for you. I mean, I can lay out your options, but you already know them."

"I know," Vaughn conceded, "I guess I'm just looking for a little support."

"And you've got it, buddy," Weiss assured him. "You know you can stay on my couch anytime."

"How about tonight?"

"I'll vacuum the Cheese Nips up when I get home."

Vaughn almost smiled. He reached out and gripped Weiss' shoulder as if it were his anchor, "Thanks, man. I really appreciate this."

Weiss stepped back and put his arms up in protest, "Whoa, whoa! No touching! None of that girly stuff! I don't get enough dates as it is. That kind of thing certainly won't help my record." He shot a furtive look in all directions, "This really is the 'flirting corner.' Must have some magical powers or something." He shivered. "I'm getting goosebumps."

Vaughn rolled his eyes as he adjusted his tie and straightened the front of his shirt. He inhaled slowly, attempting to suck a little control in with the oxygen. Relatively satisfied, he turned to walk away.

"Hey, Mike," Weiss called out to stop him, his tone uncharacteristically serious, "You know you have to consider the possibility that Sydney won't take you back."

Vaughn turned to look at him, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I know," he breathed on a sigh. "But regardless of what happens with Sydney and I, this has to end. I'm not being fair to myself, and I'm certainly not being fair to Lauren."

The two men walked somberly out of the enclosure and made their way across the JTF. The day had only just begun, and already Vaughn felt like he had been hit by a Mack Truck. To make matters worse, as he looked across the room he saw the unmistakable form of Jack Bristow heading straight for them.

"Good morning, Jack," Vaughn offered hesitantly as the senior officer approached. He was rewarded with a curt nod.

"Meeting in five," Jack said as he turned on his heel, "There's been a development." And with that, he was gone.

Weiss and Vaughn headed straight for the conference room and took their seats, anxious to hear whether 'the development' would work for or against them. There was no way they could tell from Jack's typically expressionless face, so they would have to await the news from Dixon himself.

Slowly, the rest of their team filed into the room and sat down. Lauren was the last to enter and was forced to sit in the chair next to her husband. They had not spoken since their argument on the previous night, and the tension radiating between the two was palpable. Not one person was unaffected by the uncomfortable energy that bathed the room. Weiss shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Sydney looked at Weiss with a questioning expression. Lauren shot an evil glare in Sydney's direction. Vaughn did everything he could to keep from making eye contact with anyone in the room. Marshall was sweating profusely, though he couldn't for the life of him pinpoint why. Even Jack's lips were more pursed than usual. It wasn't until Dixon entered the room that some of the awkwardness seemed to lift slightly.

"Good morning, everyone," he began, "Let's get straight to it. We've intercepted a communiqué from Mr. Sark to an unknown second party. We were able to trace it back to its origin and have determined that it came from Denmark, at a warehouse in Aalborg. We have confirmed that Sark himself is on the premises and the artifact is with him. Bristow and Vaughn," he tossed a folder in each of their directions, "you'll be on point." He tossed a third folder across the table, "Agent Weiss, you will be on comms." Dixon looked to Sydney's father, "Jack?"

Jack stood up and began his presentation, "We've long known that something was going on at this particular site. The security is much too high for a typical storage unit. There are over 200 cameras scattered throughout the building, as well as laser grid motion sensors, thermal sensors, biometric scanners, security guards and even dogs."

"Wieners or pugs?" Weiss quipped.

Jack refused to acknowledge the comment as he continued his exposition, "The guards are divided into three shifts, the smallest being the evening shift. That's when you'll be going in."

Jack took his seat and Dixon nodded, "Thank you Jack. Marshall?"

On cue, Marshall stood up and began to speak, "Okay, well… first off – wow, huh? Yeah, that is what they call a boatload of security. It would take, like, forever to get through all that stuff. Technology aplenty. I mean, at the very least you'd need a scrambler for the surveillance system, jamming units or decoders for the laser sensors, body heat modifiers for the thermal sensors…"

"Marshall…" Dixon interrupted.

"Yeah, right… sorry. Well, anyway, it would take a lot to get through all that – unless … you could take them all out at once. This little guy," he held up a small black plastic box, "I have been working on for quite some time. You see what I had to do was create a pulse with…" Marshall looked over at the stern expression on Dixon's face. He laughed uncomfortably, "Right, well, you don't need to know that. All you need to know is that you have to press this red button." He indicated a button on the underside of the box as the room looked on intently.

"What's the blue one for?" Sydney asked.

"Oh, that," Marshall smiled, "Well, I couldn't decide what color to use so I was trying them out. The blue one will be gone on the final model that I'll give to you." He thought for a moment, "Or the red one. Which one do you want? I also have a purple…"

"Red's fine," Sydney insisted.

"Okay, great, red it is. So you just press this red button and _bingo_. Power's out."

Vaughn was hesitant, "Won't they have a back up power source?"

Marshall grinned, "You see, that's the beauty of this guy. It'll take out that too. Most back up generators are on a three second delay. So this device is programmed to send a second pulse three seconds after the first, and another after that, just in case. Within ten seconds it'll have taken out everything within ten blocks. Except these," he held up an earpiece and a transmitter, "These were created specifically to resist the effects of the black box. Or, as I like to call it, _Marshall's Midnight_. The blackout will last twelve minutes, and you'll be able to communicate with each other the entire time."

"What good will it do to communicate with Weiss if he's just as blind as we are?" Sydney wanted to know.

Jack fielded this one, "By the time you arrive at the location a satellite with heat sensing capabilities will have been tasked."

"And," Marshall chimed in, "Agent Weiss will be able to monitor that by using this laptop, which is also immune to _Marshall's Midnight_." He proudly displayed the laptop and then took his seat.

"Your flight is not until tomorrow," Dixon announced, "That's all."

"I wonder what effect _Marshall's Midnight_ has on the dogs?" Weiss queried to no one in particular as he headed for the door. "Hey, Marshall, how about adding a feature that makes dogs get constipated so they can't do that jump-attack intruder thing…" Weiss' voice trailed off as he caught a stern eye from Jack. "What? A device like that could be a great addition to our arsenal. You shouldn't stifle ingenuity like mine. It's innovators like me that make the world a better place."

As the room emptied Vaughn hung back to help Lauren with her things. Stuffing her notes busily into her bag, Vaughn noticed that she pointedly ignored his presence.

"Lauren," Vaughn began tentatively, "we need to talk."

"Not now, Michael," she snapped, still fussing with the papers.

"Yes, now," he insisted, "We can't put this off."

Lauren turned sharply and looked him straight in the eye as she spoke forcefully, "Not now, Michael. I have to be at _Il Faro_ in five minutes. I have a lunch date."

She stormed out of the room without so much as a 'goodbye.'

Weiss peeked his head in about ten seconds later. "Yikes. That must have been a hoot. Remind me never to get married. You know, someone once told me that 'a wife always gets the last word in every argument. Anything a husband says after that is just the first word in the next argument.' Sage advice, my friend… hey, why aren't you taking notes? Oh, nevermind. You wanna go get some pizza or something?"

"Yeah," Vaughn looked up, "How about _Il Faro_?"


	7. Exposure

-Exposure-

"Hello, Love. It has been far too long. How is my favorite blonde?"

"I'm fine." Lauren replied, a little too harshly.

"For someone as highly trained in espionage as are you, I would have imagined that you could have pulled that off with more aplomb. What's the matter," Sark asked, his tone turning caustic, "marital troubles?" When Lauren failed to respond he continued to jeer, "Don't worry, Love. You may not be able to get the dog in the divorce, but I'm sure you will at least have visitation rights. I know a good lawyer." Even over the phone, it was evident that he was pleased with himself.

Lauren refused to be provoked. "Bristow is getting too close. My mission depends on my husband confiding in me – which he hasn't been doing since she came back."

"Don't let it happen," he offered simply.

"I can't compete with what they have."

"That may be true, but you do have one advantage," he announced with condescending superiority.

"And what is that?" she snapped.

"_You_ are his wife."

Lauren's face reddened with anger as she struggled to maintain control, "While you are doling out the advice, Julian, you might want to save some for yourself. You've been made. They know where you are and they are coming for you."

"When?"

"I don't know exactly, some time tomorrow evening."

"Well, find out exactly," was the clipped response. "These are things I need to know."

""

After a fruitless hour of surveillance and two slices of pizza too many, Vaughn threw his napkin down in frustration.

"Why would she lie to me?" he fumed.

"Maybe something came up?" Weiss offered.

Vaughn shook his head. "Lauren said she had to be here in five minutes," he pointed out. "We left about a minute after she did. We would have seen her."

Weiss thought about it for a moment and then shrugged, "Well, I don't know what to tell you." He gestured at his watch, "But I do know that we have to get back to work."

Vaughn, his jaw clenched tightly, nodded slowly and stood to leave. Far from pacified, he followed Weiss out the door and back to the JTF building. He would have to figure this out later.

""

That evening Vaughn returned home prepared to do battle with his wife. So when he opened the door to the smell of food warming in the oven and found the dining room table basked in the glow of candlelight and adorned with flowers he was understandably surprised.

"Hello, Darling," Lauren cooed as she relieved him of his jacket and briefcase. "I took the liberty of preparing dinner. It should be ready any moment. Why don't you sit down at the table and I'll get us some wine?" She continued to prattle on about their upcoming meal as she disappeared into the kitchen.

Vaughn stared after her in confusion. What the hell had happened? Last night Lauren had stormed out on him, this morning she could not stand to be in the same room with him, and now she's suddenly Holly Housewife? Had he missed a step?

"Here we are," she said in a sing-song voice as she placed the food on the table. "Chicken parmesan and spaghetti, with extra oranges on the salad, just how you like it. Sit." She pulled out his chair and gestured for him to be seated.

Vaughn, for his part, couldn't make heads or tails of this sudden change in disposition. Was she not mad at him anymore? No, he had given her no reason to forgive him, and she had shown no signs of willingness to discuss the issue. And what about lunch? Why had she lied to him? Something definitely was not right.

Deciding to test the bounds of her new Stepford Wife act, he inquired casually, "How was _Il Faro_?"

She smiled brightly, not missing a beat. "It was lovely. That's actually why I decided on Italian tonight. I just love their marinara sauce, and I ended up talking to the waiter and finagling the recipe. I couldn't wait to try it out."

He struggled to keep the skepticism from showing on his face. Not only was she lying, she was making up unnecessary details.

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and gave his wife a brief smile. It was certainly going to be an interesting evening. The question was: who was the cat and who was the mouse?

""

"What time is your flight tomorrow, dear?" she asked absently as they stood together over the sink, drying the dishes from the meal.

"We leave at eight."

"Perfect," she clapped her hands together, "That gives me just enough time to make you breakfast."

She grabbed her purse and was already moving toward the door. "I'm just going to run to the store and pick up some eggs. We ran out yesterday."

"I'll go," Vaughn offered.

"Oh no," she insisted, "You stay here, Michael. I won't be long."

"Don't be silly. You went to all the trouble of cooking dinner. The least I can do is run to the store," he persisted, not sure why either of them was pressing the point.

"No," Lauren said firmly, "I'll do it."

A minute after she left Vaughn slumped heavily onto the couch. Was it his imagination, or was she a little too insistent that she be the one to go? And why was she making him breakfast? She didn't normally do that before trips. Understanding struck like a bolt of lightning. _She's cheating on me! _That explained everything! Suddenly her overreaction to him spending time with Sydney and lying about where she was going made sense. And the newly adopted saccharine disposition and attempts at being the perfect wife – _she was feeling guilty!_ How had he not realized this before? Michael Vaughn, CIA operative, did not even know that his wife was having an affair!

"Ugh!" he groaned in frustration. "I'm such an idiot!"

On impulse, Vaughn crossed to the kitchen and peered into the garbage under the sink. All that he could see were the remains of the dinner Lauren had prepared that evening. Unwilling to give up his query, he slipped on his shoes and went outside to the trash. Throwing open the lid, he grabbed the bag on top and slit open the side, spilling the contents. Sure enough, he found a carton of eggs that was still half full. Vaughn checked the expiration date. Two weeks from today.

""

"So she had been planning all evening to leave?" Weiss asked.

"To go on some late night rendezvous with a freckled faced produce clerk, I'm sure. She was gone forty minutes. I asked her what took so long and she said she had to 'wait for them to restock.'"

"Oo," Weiss winced. "And not even a good bluff. Kinda makes you feel like a putz for not noticing earlier, huh?"

"I feel so stupid," Vaughn shook his head ruefully as he looked out the plane's small window.

"The signs were all there. It's typical cheating behavior." Weiss spoke with authority.

"Seriously?"

"Yup," he nodded, "I've seen it all before."

Vaughn stared at him for a moment before his eyes got wide, "Really? You've been cheated on? _The_ Eric Weiss has been the unwitting victim of infidelity?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, not personally. But, you know, those girls on TV…" Weiss looked up as the bathroom door opened and Sydney emerged. "Yeah, those, uh… girls on Miss America and stuff. They just seem so… lucky." He trailed off uncertainly, looking to Vaughn for help.

"Lucky? Why is Miss America lucky?" Sydney asked as she slid into the seat across from Weiss.

The two exchanged glances and then Weiss cleared his throat nervously, "Oh, you know... Free swimsuits."

Vaughn stifled a laugh.

Sydney, obviously confused by the snippet of conversation, opened her mouth to question further, but Vaughn beat her to it.

"Well, Eric," Vaughn looked insufferably smug as he explained judiciously, "I just don't think you should let price be an issue. If that's the Speedo you want, then that's the Speedo you should get."

""

Sydney and Vaughn approached the insertion point and ­­­­­­­­­­crouched low, cautiously making their way to the perimeter fence.

Vaughn nodded and Sydney put a hand to her earpiece, "Banana Hammock, this is Mountaineer, do you copy?"

"I refuse to respond to that call sign," Weiss grumbled. "If we're going to change it, we're changing it to Rambo or something. Incredible Hulk, maybe."

Both Vaughn and Sydney smiled as she continued, "We're in position."

Weiss began typing on the laptop as he spoke, "Roger that, Mountaineer. Give me two seconds." He initiated the uplink and prepped _Marshall's Midnight_. "Alright, we're good to go. Three, two, one."

All around them lights flickered and blacked out. The few lights that remained were extinguished in the seconds that followed.

"Do we have visual?"

"Copy that, Boy Scout. Satellite uplink successful."

"Alright," Sydney said as she started toward the building, "We're moving in." She and Vaughn were fifty yards from the entrance when they heard Weiss yell, "Wait!"

Grabbing Sydney, he shoved her down behind him as he made himself as small as possible against the fence. "What is it, Weiss?" Vaughn whispered into the comm.

"Something's not right. The only people I can see on the screen are the two of you. There's no one in the building."

"What?" Vaughn asked quickly, his eyes still scanning the surrounding area. "I thought there was supposed to be a security team. Not even a dog?"

"No," Weiss answered. "No dogs."

"Well, let's go find out what's going on," Sydney said as she resumed her advance toward the building.

"Wait, Syd," Vaughn pulled her back. "We can't just go in there."

"Maybe they knew we were coming," Weiss offered. "Maybe they cleaned out…" He was interrupted by a loud boom followed by a crackling in his earpiece. Then static.

"Guys?!" Weiss shouted, "Come in! Mountaineer, Boy Scout, do you copy?"

"We're alright, Eric." Vaughn responded as he stood and helped pull Sydney to her feet. She brushed the debris off her clothing as she spoke, "The warehouse… it just exploded."


	8. Revelations

-Revelations-

"Again. They knew we were coming again." Sydney said bitterly as she pulled up the chair across from her father's desk. She was beyond frustrated and made no attempt to stifle it. After yet another long and ultimately futile debrief, she was fed up. How could they have lost the artifact yet again? They still didn't even know what this 'Golden End' was. And how had Sark been one step ahead of them in both Greece and Denmark? Something was rotten and she was bound and determined to find out exactly what it was. There was no way Sark would come out on top a third time.

"That appears to be the case," Jack agreed stoically as he sat down at his desk. He looked Sydney in the eye, his expression grave, "We have a serious problem on our hands."

She knew what he was implying. It was the exact conclusion that she had reached the moment she'd discovered that the warehouse was empty. "You think there is someone on the inside."

Jack nodded solemnly, "It looks as though we have a mole."

""

Vaughn was slumped in his chair, his head resting heavily in his hands, when Weiss approached. Perched on the edge of the desk, Weiss cleared his throat before tentatively offering the obvious question, "So, are you going to confront her?"

Not bothering to lift his head, his muffled response traveled on a shaky sigh, "Does it matter? It's not like I have been entirely faithful in this whole thing either."

"What? What are you talking about?" Weiss looked at Vaughn with disbelief, "You haven't cheated… have you?"

"Not physically, no," he continued, despair lining his tone, "But don't you think being in love with someone else would be considered an affront to one's marital vows?"

"You've got me on that one," Weiss shrugged, mulling it over. "I'll have to ask my friends at the Church of Mammals. But regardless, I think you need to confront Lauren about her extracurricular activities."

Vaughn finally lifted his head to meet the concerned gaze of his best friend. "I don't know that I have enough evidence to call her on this. What am I going to say? You threw away perfectly good eggs – are you sleeping with someone else?"

"Are you suggesting a little clandestine investigation?" Weiss asked.

His sea green eyes were troubled as he admitted slowly, "I'm definitely considering it."

"What is it exactly that you are going to look for?"

"Look for?" Vaughn repeated absently, his mind elsewhere as he glanced up and saw Marshall crossing to his office. He smiled wryly to himself, "No, I have a better idea." Vaughn rose without another word and strode determinedly across the room.

The door of Marshall's office was cracked open. Vaughn knocked and entered without waiting to be admitted, "Marshall? You got a minute?"

Marshall looked up and beamed, "Agent Vaughn! Of course I have a minute. Come in, come in." He indicated the bright yellow oblong contraption in his hands and offered a proud smile, "It's a present for Mitchell. You've heard of those electronic toys that you can program to act like humans or pets? Well, this is my own custom design," he hesitated for a moment, "I know that he's too young for something like that, but I figure by the time I get all the kinks worked out and design the body… and if you factor in his predictably superior intelligence…" He gave an embarrassed shrug, "He'll love it."

Vaughn nodded briskly, "I'm sure he will." He closed the door behind him before speaking, "Marshall, I… I have a personal matter… I was wondering if… I was hoping maybe you could help me with it – off the record." He was faltering so much that he was beginning to sound like Marshall himself. _Maybe it's contagious. Or maybe it's something about this office…_

"Oh, well… uh," Marshall stuttered both surprised and flattered by the request, "Of course, Agent Vaughn. If I can do anything I would certainly like to help you."

"Okay, well… I'm going to need a tap on someone's cellular phone. I want to be able to monitor all incoming and outgoing calls without their knowledge."

"You're going to spy on someone, huh?" Marshall asked conspiratorially. "Well, I mean, of course you are. That's what you do. You spy. You're a spy. Just like 007. Although, you're not 007, you're 2300708…"

Vaughn looked at him quizzically and Marshall hastened to explain. "Photographic memory. Although there is 007 in there, so that must be why you have so much luck with the ladies…" Not noticing the flicker of pain that passed over Vaughn's face at his observation, he continued, "I'm not trying to spy on you, Agent Vaughn, Sir. I couldn't do that. I'm not a spy. Just a tech nerd, you know – not that I haven't been on any missions." Just as Vaughn thought Marshall had mercifully finished he started again with renewed vigor, "Did agent Bristow tell you about when we went to London and I had to use my Ewok…"

"Marshall, the tap?" he interrupted.

"Oh, right. Cell phone. That'll be no problem. I can have the calls routed to your own phone so that you can listen as they take place. Just give me both numbers and I'll have that ready for you within the hour."

Vaughn's lips curled in a wry smile, "Perfect. Thank you."

""

Sydney walked over to Weiss' desk as the JTF emptied for the day. Weiss was playing solitaire on his computer in humorously deep concentration, oblivious to the outside world.

"Earth to Eric," she grinned. "You know you can go home now?"

"Huh?" he responded, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"It's five," she informed him as she waved her hand in front of his face to garner his ever-illusive attention. "You're free to go."

"Really?" he asked as he closed the game. "Wow," he stretched dramatically, "time flies when you're working hard." He stood, gathering his jacket and keys.

"Yeah, looks like it." Sydney smiled with warm affection as she slipped an arm into his and they began walking toward the parking garage.

"You want to go out to dinner?" she asked as they neared his car. "I've been a little Weiss-deprived as of late."

"Syd," he hesitated, just spending time with his best friends was becoming more and more like walking through an emotional mine field, "you know I'd love to, but Mike and I were going to have beer and pizza night tonight."

"Oh, okay," her voice wavered only for a brief second. "Another time then," she added quickly.

"Hey, why don't you come?" Weiss offered expectantly.

Sydney shook her head, casting a self-conscious gaze downward. "No, no. I'm not going to intrude."

"Come on," he insisted, opening the passenger door for her, "You wouldn't be intruding." Deciding to press his luck, he added softly, "I know Mikey wouldn't mind."

"Are you sure?" she asked cautiously as she lowered herself into the car. Weiss walked around to the other side and took his place behind the wheel.

"Of course," he patted her hand in a gesture of support and sealed the pact with a wink. "I've got a hankering for pineapple anyway."

""

When they arrived at Weiss' house he gallantly offered to order dinner while she ran home to change. After hanging up with the pizza parlor, he dialed Vaughn's cell.

"Yo," Vaughn answered.

Weiss stifled a laugh at his greeting. "Who are you, Bruce Willis?"

"Since when did Bruce Willis say 'yo'?"

"Doesn't he?"

"I honestly don't think so."

"Anyway," Weiss drew out the word with exaggerated impatience, "the reason I called…"

"Yeah, get to that," Vaughn cut short the anticipated banter.

"When you pick up the beers, make sure and grab some Coors Light."

"Coors Light…" Vaughn trailed off, attempting to keep a firm grip on his spiraling emotions. "Sydney's coming?"

"Yeah, is that okay?" Weiss asked softly.

"Yeah, sure," he regained his composure after only a moment. "I'll be there in a few." Vaughn hung up the phone and stared straight ahead, lost in thought. Well, no one ever said life was simple.

""

Vaughn, arriving on Weiss' stoop, had just raised his fist to knock when the door swung open. He was greeted by Sydney's smiling face.

"What's up, Monkey-Meat?" she asked cheerfully.

Vaughn rolled his eyes as he entered the house. "So, I see you've been talking to Ella."

Sydney grinned. "Yup. Every day. That girl is chalk full of good information. For example, I find it interesting to know that your favorite pastime as a child was to play Barbie with your little sister."

Weiss joined them in the living room, carrying napkins and two boxes of pizza. "You used to play Barbie? Did you have your own doll?"

Vaughn opened his mouth to respond but Sydney answered for him. "Yes, in fact he did," she informed her audience with prim authority, pausing for effect before continuing, "her name was Peggy."

Both Sydney and Weiss began laughing uncontrollably. "The best part is," Sydney continued through fits of giggles, "that when he and Ella would play with their Barbie dolls, they would act out little real life scenarios. And Vaughn would always be the one that 'spoke' for the dolls. He wouldn't let Ella be their voices because he claimed that she 'didn't know what they say.'"

Weiss choked on his beer. Recovering slowly, he managed to get his next words out. "Tell me Mike – how did _you_ know what they say? Do you have some telepathic connection with the little plastic women?"

"Alright, alright," Vaughn put his hands up in surrender. "Make fun of me if you must. But I'll have you know that there's nothing abnormal about playing with dolls. It is just an unfortunate byproduct of growing up with a little sister."

Sydney and Weiss remained unconvinced. "Did you have a favorite outfit for Peggy?" Sydney wondered.

"No," Weiss laughed, "I bet he liked to strip her naked!"

"I would never have violated her in that way," Vaughn defended himself. This only set off another round of laughter as he continued, "I had my mom change her clothes for me."

"Aw," Sydney cooed as she placed her hand on his leg, "you're such a gentleman." The moment he felt her touch his laughter choked to a muted gasp. It was an innocent action. She probably had placed no conscious thought into the familiar gesture. _I know that_, Vaughn chastised himself. But that didn't stop his pulse from quickening nor did it stop every nerve in his body from humming wildly. It was such a casual contact– but at the same time one that spoke of comfort and intimacy. His fingers itched to reach for her, to succumb to the increasingly demanding pull of desire. It was time to tell her, he vowed decisively. Time to tell her that he loved her and he was sorry for giving up. To tell her that he would never make that mistake again. To beg and plead for a second chance.

His eyes traveled from her hand to her eyes, allowing himself a quick glance. Sydney's gaze flickered up and met his. The room seemed to fade around them as her dark brown eyes widened in anticipation, knowing instinctively what he wanted to say. "Vaughn," she said, a syllable of warning.

The shrill ring of his cell phone brought him back to reality. He looked down at the display. Lauren was making a call.

"Excuse me for a moment," he said distractedly as he hurried into Weiss' room and closed the door. He needed privacy and complete silence. It was imperative that he heard every word. Vaughn pressed the number one key, as per Marshall's instructions. After three rings a woman answered.

"_Designer's Spectrum_, this is Tina."

"Hi Tina, it's Lauren Reed. I was hoping to schedule an appointment for this coming week."

"Of course. And what would you like done?"

"Just a haircut and color," Lauren replied.

"Okay," Tina paused, "how's 11:30 on Tuesday?"

"That's perfect. Thank you."

"Uh huh. Bye." And she disconnected.

Vaughn pressed 'end.' He looked down at his hands and realized that they were shaking. _I'm such an idiot_. _The simple act of my wife making a hair appointment practically drives me over the edge. Calm down_, he berated himself. "Damn it, Vaughn," he hissed, feeling the energy drain from his entire body. A wave of self-loathing coursed through him. _Wow. Batting a thousand tonight. First that near miss with Sydney and now…_ With a jerky shrug of determination he forced himself to focus and cool down.

The ringing of Lauren's phone caused him to nearly jump out of his skin. Taking a calming breath, he checked the display. This time it was an incoming call from a number he didn't recognize: (770) 908-7383. He pressed the one key and waited for Lauren to pick up.

"Let me guess. You couldn't go another minute without hearing my voice," Lauren answered huskily.

_So he was right!_ She was cheating on him! All this time he was so worried about honoring his marriage vows and the promises he had made. He did not want to get a divorce because he thought it wouldn't be fair to Lauren. He'd suffered through months of self-flagellation for caring about Sydney – and all the while his wife was having an affair. He bit down hard, forcing himself to remain silent.

"While that may be true, Love, that is not the reason I called," replied a sultry British voice. So, she's seeing someone British. I guess French wasn't – wait a minute. He knew that voice._ Sark_.

Distracted, he caught only the end of Lauren's next question. "…have you found the artifact's importance?"

"Not yet. We managed to get it open, but there is some text on the inside that we cannot decipher. We're moving the artifact to our site in Azerbaijan for further study."

"Notify me when you find something."

"Consider it done," he paused for a moment. "Any luck with your marital problems?"

"The problems have been rectified," she answered coolly.

"Just remember when you're with him – think of me."

"Always," his wife affirmed as the line disconnected.

Vaughn's head was spinning. _Lauren is Covenant._


	9. Taking Action

-Taking Action-

The next hour seemed to drag on forever. Vaughn had too many thoughts racing through his mind to sit idly exchanging pleasantries with Sydney and Weiss. His head was a confusing jumble of new information and unanswered questions. His wife was working for the enemy. She _was_ the enemy. How long had this been going on? Had she always been Covenant? Did she ever love him? Did he ever love her? Was their marriage no more than a mission? Lauren and Sark obviously had some form of relationship. How long had that been going on? How had he been so stupid? How many times had he led the enemy right to them? How many lives had he jeopardized with mere pillow talk? How much damage had he done?

And Sydney. _Oh_ _God, Sydney_. How could he have treated her so horribly? He had given up on the woman who made his world spin and married an evil, traitorous, cheating witch. And when given the opportunity to have her again – when she had come back from the dead – he had turned her away because he felt that he owed it to his wife! Would he ever be able to fix this? Would she ever forgive him?

Vaughn looked over at Sydney. She was sitting on the couch in jeans and a tee shirt, her head thrown back in laughter at a story Weiss was telling. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. And she had no clue as to his true feelings. He'd told her that he had moved on.

"Well," Sydney interrupted his rambling cogitation, "I think I'm going to head home." She stood up and stretched, stifling a yawn.

"I'll walk you," Vaughn offered impulsively as she hugged Weiss goodbye.

Sydney shook her head, bemused at his over-exuberant protective streak. "Vaughn, I live next door."

"I know," he confessed a little sheepishly, "I just… thought it'd be nice."

She smiled, "Well, who am I to refuse a little chivalry?"

The walk was predictably brief, but Vaughn could not help but take the time to notice how beautiful the evening was. The stars shone brightly in the darkness of the night sky – such peacefulness struck a sharp contrast to the chaos that was his life. He inhaled the brisk night air and a cleansing cold saturated his lungs.

As Sydney strolled beside him she couldn't fight a wistful smile. Wondering if things would ever feel normal between them, trying to recall a time when their relationship hadn't been awkward on so many levels, she resisted the urge to lean into him, to take shelter from the cold in the warmth of his body.

They arrived on her doorstep and she silently slid her key into the lock. As she opened the door she turned to Vaughn. There was something there – a small spark. Of what, she couldn't tell. Whatever emotions battled behind the penetrating gaze of Michael Vaughn, she was no longer privy to their expression. She was merely an outsider.

"Thank you for the escort," she said as she stepped through the threshold. She nodded slightly in a gesture of appreciation and began to close the door.

"Actually," he leaned forward, placing his hand on the door jam in an effort to stop it from closing, "my intentions might not have been completely selfless. I was hoping to talk to you for a minute."

She hesitated, searching his face for answers. The present grasp she maintained on her emotions was tenuous at best. She could ill afford to spend more time in the presence of this man who held so much power over her. A tinge of suspicion slipped out with her words, "Talk about what?"

His voice wavered slightly, "Can I come in?"

"Sure," she replied, dismissing her reservations as foolish as she switched on the light. "Come inside. Coffee?" she offered as she walked into the kitchen.

"That would be nice," Vaughn said as he eased onto the barstool and leaned against the counter. While Sydney prepared the coffee he struggled to sort through his thoughts and to plan what he would say – _something I should have done earlier_, he chided himself.

"So, what's up? What did you want to talk about?"

He sipped his drink for a moment, searching for a way to ease into the conversation. His eyes remained on the warm liquid, as if focusing on it would imbue him with the words he needed to convince her. When he finally looked up he saw that Sydney's body was stiff with tension, while her expression gave away nothing. "Sydney," he began in a low voice, "I wanted to apologize."

His words startled her. Any remaining hope that she could steer their conversation back to friendly inanities had fled the moment he had asked for her permission to come in; but standing over her stove, busying herself making coffee, she had attempted to prepare herself for what he had to say, for whatever lay ahead. Clearly, her efforts were woefully inadequate. She hadn't anticipated the raw pain she saw in his features. She hadn't expected his humble apology. She stood rooted to the spot.

Vaughn shifted helplessly in his seat, still laboring over his explanation. "Ever since you came back, I've… well, I've treated you horribly. I know that we aren't in the best situation, and I know I'm the one who put us here." He held up his hand to forestall any protest. "And before you say that I wasn't, hear me out." He sighed heavily, dragging his fingers through his hair in frustration. "When you came to tell me that you were okay with me returning to the CIA, I told you two things."

Sydney nodded. She still felt the bruising from those fateful words. Unbidden, the entire conversation played through her head.

_Before you tell me you can handle me coming back to the CIA, there are two things you need to know. First... is that I was so in love with you... it nearly killed me. And second... that I don't regret moving on with my life._

No, he didn't need to remind her of that exchange. It had been burned into her from the moment he had uttered it.

Vaughn's next words, however, were new. "I lied," he confessed as he forced her eyes to meet his. "I did and I _do_ regret moving on. If I'm honest with myself, there was not a moment when I didn't regret it. Yes, I was in hell when you died, Syd. Of course I was. 'Hell' doesn't even begin to describe it. But just because I started dating again, just because I married Lauren – that hell didn't go away. And when I said that I was so in love with you that it nearly killed me, I lied too. It did kill me. I died when you disappeared, Syd. My soul shriveled up and I died, and marrying Lauren did nothing to bring me back to life. I need you to know that."

Her eyes filled with unshed tears but didn't waiver from his, absorbing everything that he had said, unsure of how to respond. This was a man she loved more than life itself. This was a man from whom she had ached to hear those very words. This was a man who was married.

Sydney felt her face flush with embarrassment, guilt immediately swamping her. She had no right to accept his declarations; she couldn't surrender to temptation, the fallout would be catastrophic.

Space. She needed space to think about what this meant. Space in which she could logically assess the situation; where her every intake of breath wasn't laced with his aftershave, with his nearness. Awkwardly she started to withdraw, attempting to put some distance between them.

"Syd," he breathed unsteadily, destroyed by the possibility that he was already too late, "somewhere in the mess of counter missions and secret meetings I fell in love with you. And I've been in love with you ever since. There's nothing I regret more than the fact that I've never said the words to you.

"Sydney, I love you."

He reached across the counter and placed his hand on top of hers. He hesitated and swallowed hard when she flinched at his touch. "I'm not trying to win you back. I know that I've probably missed my chance. But I still need you to know – need you to believe. I love you with all my heart."

As he gently squeezed her hand Sydney felt the pressure of a cold metal band against her skin. She found it hard to swallow. Too many emotions clogged her throat. Her heart constricted, hardening against the love and desire that clawed desperately at her insides. Outwardly, she kept her shoulders rigid, unwilling to succumb. She took a step back, away from Vaughn, pitifully thankful for the bar that separated them, and gave voice to the question that had to be answered. "But, Vaughn, what about Lauren?"

Though spoken softly, the words struck him like a blow to the gut. He withdrew his hand and examined the ring for an endless moment. Slowly, eyes locked with Sydney, he removed it and set it on the table with grim finality. "It's been over for a long time. Since before it began. It just took me too long to admit it. And when I finally did manage to be honest with myself, I felt bound to her. I felt obligated to honor the vows that I had made." Vaughn's gaze lowered to the table, ashamed. "I didn't want to hurt her, Syd. But that doesn't matter anymore."

"Why not?"

Vaughn looked up at her beautiful face. Her eyes were so deep and haunted that he was sure he could see straight into her soul. He had not planned on telling her tonight. He did not want to bring her into this. But then, he realized, he already had. Vaughn braced himself before speaking what he had only recently acknowledged as truth. "Lauren is Covenant."

Sydney's eyes widened in shock. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words could find purchase on her lips.

Vaughn continued in an effort to explain, "She's been acting out of character recently and doing odd things. Things like lying about where she was going, and changing from extremely angry to uncharacteristically sweet without explanation. For a time I thought maybe she was having an affair, so I did some investigating. I went to see Marshall today and he made a program that allowed me to eavesdrop on Lauren's phone conversations."

The pieces were rapidly falling into place. "So that phone call tonight…"

Vaughn nodded. "Lauren got a call from Sark."

"Oh my god," Sydney breathed. "What did he say?"

"They've moved the artifact to a site in Azerbaijan so they could work on decoding its text."

Grateful for the distraction, she pounced on it, seized it, and forced everything else to the back of her mind. "So you don't know anything else? How long has Lauren been Covenant? What all has she told them?" She began to pace and spoke rapidly. "So Greece? And Denmark?" Sydney shook her head as she continued back and forth across the kitchen. "_Lauren_ is the mole. We have to call Dixon," she insisted. "We have to do something."

"I'm going to do something," Vaughn affirmed. He tried not to think about how she had not yet acknowledged his declaration, about how she had so clearly pulled away from him. How foolish was he to try to press her for more while they were still struggling to regain pieces of their friendship? Resolutely he vowed to give her time, and give himself time to prove to her that for him there was no going back. She was his future. "I'm not going to tell Dixon. Not yet. This is my mistake, Sydney, and I'm going to fix it."

"What do you mean you're not going to tell him?" she asked, the pitch of her voice rising commensurate with the level of her incredulity. "We have to tell the CIA, Vaughn. They need to know."

"I understand that," he insisted, "but I want my chance to fix the mess I've made first. I'm going to retrieve the artifact. I'm the reason we don't have it."

"Vaughn, that's ridiculous. It's not your fault," she admonished.

"Yes it is. Please, Syd. You have to let me do this. Promise me that you won't tell anyone until I get back."

The pain etched in his face told her that further protests would be dismissed out of hand. She drew a deep breath and took a step forward, "Alright," she agreed. "I promise." Looking him straight in the eyes, she spoke her next words deliberately. "But I'm coming too."


	10. Making a Move

-Making a Move-

_Click. Click. Click._ Vaughn's breath caught in his chest as he heard the familiar footfalls echoing down the corridor. It was all he could do to keep from grinning like a fool when she pulled back the chain link fence and walked toward him. Just seeing her…

"Hi."

"Hey," Sydney smiled. There was a moment of awkward silence before she continued, "Déjà vu."

Vaughn's eyes scanned the familiar crates that surrounded him, triggering memories of things that had happened years ago, as well as things that he once wished had happened. The latter images were just as vivid. The recollection of one of his steamier cage fantasies made blood suddenly rush to his cheeks.

Without acknowledging Vaughn's obvious discomfort, Sydney began with business. "I picked up the item from Marshall," she said as she reached into her bag and pulled out a syringe that looked like it could take down a horse.

Vaughn's eyes widened and he sputtered helplessly, "How am I going to inject her using that thing without her knowledge?"

"You won't," Sydney stated simply as she continued to rummage through her bag. She found what she was looking for and held it out to Vaughn, along with the syringe. "This a sleeping pill. Dissolve it in Lauren's drink and it should knock her out cold for five hours, maybe six. As long as you inject the tracker in a location where she can't see the insertion point, we should be fine. So that just leaves one thing. We're going to need to find out where the artifact is being held."

"Today," Vaughn explained as he gingerly took the syringe from Sydney's outstretched palm, "during the briefing. I'll break into Dixon's office and get what we need."

Sydney knew it was risky, but she also knew that it was the only way. No one else had the clearance to access that information. Reluctantly she agreed, "Alright then. Today."

""

The meeting had been underway for a little over ten minutes when Sydney looked over at Vaughn and knew instinctively that he was about to make his move. Well, if she were honest, instinct really had little to do with her assessment. He looked like he was going to throw up. His face was unusually pale, he was sweating, and he had apparently developed a cough. Wondering if he was a truly amazing actor or if he had forced down rotten food in preparation for this moment, she refocused her attention on her father.

Vaughn's body was racked by another loud fit of coughing, this one nearly doubling him over the table, forcing Jack to pause in the middle of his explanation.

Dixon spoke up, "Agent Vaughn, are you alright?"

"Actually," he choked out, then stopped abruptly as his hand flew to cover his mouth.

"Why don't you take a break," Dixon suggested. "Go home if you need to."

Vaughn nodded and slowly rose to his feet. As he made his way to the door, Sydney silently wished him luck.

Five minutes later, the meeting was wrapping up. As agents began gathering papers and stood to leave, Sydney shifted nervously. Vaughn had yet to call her to let her know that he had safely cleared Dixon's office. She would have to stall.

Dixon glanced over at a slightly distraught looking Sydney, "Is there anything else?"

She searched her brain for an effective way to extend the meeting. "Marshall… " she said a little too loudly, promptly halting the mass exit and drawing the focus of ten pair of eyes. Sydney cleared her throat nervously.

He looked awkwardly around the room and slowly pointed to himself, "Mmm…me?"

Sydney nodded, "I was wondering if you could talk more about your efforts at finding the artifact."

Marshall looked startled and flattered at the same time. It was rare that anyone actually requested that he expand on something. Not one to turn down the chance to talk, he explained, "Well, it might help if I told you what inspired me. You see, Carrie was in the kitchen one day during her pregnancy and she couldn't get to the higher cabinets… you know, because of her stomach. I mean, not to say that she was fat… she was… well, fat stomached, but - but it comes with the pregnancy. She was no fatter than any other pregnant woman. Not that pregnant women are fat. I mean… uh…wow…could we maybe not tell Carrie that I used the f-word? It kinda makes her grumpy. Oh! Don't tell her I used that word either…"

As Marshall stumbled on, Sydney's phone vibrated silently in her hand. Now for the next step.

""

"The CIA has three locations in Azerbaijan that they suspect as possible covers," Vaughn explained as he handed Sydney a file. "Each is a likely site of Covenant activity."

"Great. Now we just have to figure out which one is our target," she replied distractedly as she scanned the pages. "Okay, the first site appears to be a training ground. They wouldn't keep the artifact there."

"With all of the new faces coming and going, it would be too easy to penetrate," he agreed, peering at the list from over her shoulder.

She raised her head to respond and was immediately cut short by his proximity. Sydney's every movement stilled as her eyes darted from his lips to his eyes, then back again. His mouth hovered achingly close to hers. His warm breath fluttered against her cheek, nearly obliterating her rapidly unraveling control. _If I just moved a little… No! Focus. _With all of the self-discipline she could muster, Sydney swallowed past the lump in her throat and pulled back. "Right," she said on a shuddery breath.

Vaughn's voice faltered as he attempted to refocus on the files, "And the second one is a medical facility, which…"

"…would have little to no security," she finished for him. With regained composure she continued, "So it looks like we are left with only one option."

He nodded, "The downtown office building."

""

Vaughn walked into the bedroom carrying two cups of tea. Lauren sat up in the bed and accepted hers graciously. "Thank you, darling. Though I do feel guilty – you are the one who is sick. I should be serving you."

"It's no problem. I was getting some for myself anyway," he said as he joined her on the bed. Vaughn watched intently as she cautiously sipped at the scalding beverage. She was taking very dainty sips for someone with such a large mouth.

They sat in silence for a moment before Lauren struck up the conversation. She was saying something about her day, but Vaughn had no clue what it was. He was absolutely incapable of focusing his flagging attention on anything other than watching for signs that she was about to keel over. _Damn. Drink faster, woman!_ He should have given her milk. Something she could drink quickly. _Why tea?_

"Michael, are you listening to me?" Lauren's irritated voice brought him back to the present.

"Yes, of course I'm listening... and I agree." He took a shot. Looking over at Lauren, he could see that he had missed. Luckily, his phone chose that precise moment to ring. "It's Ella," he informed her, looking down at the display. "I'm going to take it in the other room." Vaughn picked up his tea and breezed out the door.

Plopping onto the couch he answered his phone. He bypassed traditional pleasantries and went straight for the jugular, "I can't believe you."

"Hey you," she responded, ignoring his opening remark. "What's up?"

"You've been leaking information," he accused. It didn't really bother him, but he had to needle her about it. He couldn't let her off the hook without any confrontation. That simply was not how the game was played.

"What am I, a spy? I don't 'leak information.' I told your special friend some embarrassing stories about your childhood. I can hardly be judged for that. It is my lot in life, after all. I am your younger sister."

"Special friend?"

"Ah," she smiled, "I have hit a nerve, yes?"

Vaughn sat up defensively, "She is not my 'special friend.'"

"What is she?"

He thought for a moment. None of the descriptions that came to mind were suitable for public dissemination. He went for the generic, "She's just a friend."

Ella scoffed dismissively, "And you expect me to believe that? What do you think I am, a referee? I'm not blind. I can see what is in front of my face, thank you very much."

"What are you talking about? I am a married man. I do not have a 'special friend,'" Vaughn argued stubbornly. "And for the record, I can't believe that we have managed to work that phrase into this conversation so many times."

"Well, we wouldn't have to use the phrase if you didn't have a 'special friend.'" She forged ahead, unimpressed by his lackluster denials, "And don't tell me you don't. I haven't seen you smile for the past two years, Mike. But when we were out to dinner with Sydney you barely ate a bite because you couldn't wipe that shit-eating grin off your face long enough to open your mouth. And don't think I don't see the subtle ways you touched her. That 'let me help you hold your hockey stick' routine is textbook. Textbook, my friend."

Vaughn winced uncomfortably. He struggled to come up with an acceptable excuse but knew instinctively that she wouldn't buy any of them. He opted instead for a shift in topic. "Alright, Kiddo. Did you call for a reason, or…"

"Actually, I did. Not that I should need a reason to call my loving older brother, but I suppose I can let that rather egregious error slide."

"The reason?" he prompted.

"Well," Ella cleared her throat dramatically, "as you know by now, I thoroughly enjoy the company of one Ms. Sydney Bristow, and Andrew and I would like to double date again. I use the term 'date' loosely of course, since we are all very aware of the fact that you are not even remotely attracted to her in any inappropriate way…"

Though he realized immediately that this scenario would only provide more ammunition for his sister's biting wit, there was no way that Vaughn would pass up an opportunity for the four of them to spend another evening together. "I'll talk to Syd and see what I can…"

"'Syd', huh? Do you call Lauren 'Lo' or do you only have cute little nicknames for your platonic friends?" she asked with devilish persistence.

"You are so funny," Vaughn's eyes slid to the ceiling affectionately as he countered disingenuously, "I am busting a gut over here. Hardy har har."

"Alright, Mr. Snarky Pants. But just so you know, Syd's a big beer and pizza fan."

"I know what she likes."

"Oo… already catalogued her likes and dislikes, eh?" Ella asked smugly.

"You're hopeless," he shook his head and reached for his tea. As he placed the cup to his mouth he realized that it had turned cold. Lauren had almost certainly finished her drink by now and would be fast asleep. "El, I've got to get going."

"Aye aye, Captain. Call me later."

"Will do." Vaughn disconnected and trudged toward the bedroom. Lauren was sprawled inelegantly across the bed, unconscious. He reached under his mattress and pulled the bag from its stellar hiding place. He removed the syringe and slid Lauren's nightgown off her shoulder to bare the center of her upper back. With a satisfying pop, the needle pierced her skin. __

""

"So Lauren thinks you're at your mom's?" Sydney asked as she zipped up her jacket.

Vaughn nodded as he strapped himself into his harness. "Yeah, I told her I needed some space." He cinched the final buckle and looked up, "Ready."

"Okay, let's go."

They stepped out of the shadows and silently approached the office building. The surrounding bushes combined with the dark of night would keep them well hidden until they could get inside. As they crouched low to the ground, Sydney removed a gun from her satchel. She looked up the side of the building, took aim and fired. Vaughn watched as the nylon cord unraveled and the suction cup fastened to the sixth story window. Sydney repeated the action with a second cord.

Vaughn scowled as he relieved her of the first rope. "Are you sure these can hold us?"

"They better," she answered simply.

"That's reassuring," Vaughn retorted skeptically as he followed Sydney's lead and clipped the cord onto his harness. She gave the length a tug to test the hold before pulling herself up, one hand on top of the other, pressing her feet against the building for leverage. He watched her ascend the side of the building and soon followed suit. Once they reached the sixth floor they dangled precariously as Sydney removed a hand-held laser cutting tool from her bag.

"So," Vaughn began casually, as if they weren't hanging from a suction cup sixty feet in the air, "Ella called yesterday. She mentioned that she and Andrew would like to… go out with the two of us again."

Sydney remained focused on her task, cutting a large circle in the window as she spoke, "We'll have to see about that. I think now might not be the best time." She looked up from the red beam in time to see his shoulders slump in defeat. She went on, her voice firm but gentle in its sincerity, "You wouldn't want Lauren to become suspicious. Plus, we've got other things we need to focus on." With those last words Sydney completed the circle.

Deflated, Vaughn nodded in agreement. He reached past her, carefully removed the glass and placed it inside the window before entering the room. Sydney followed close behind.

Once inside, Vaughn crept cautiously through the darkened office and flattened himself against the door. He eased upright, peering through the small window and into the hallway. Ducking back down, he gestured to Sydney that no guards were visible.

Heading straight to the computer, Sydney began to take the requisite steps to disable the building's security system. "It looks like the highest security area is a laboratory in the east corner of the ninth floor. That's where the artifact will be," she said as she turned to see Vaughn place his hand on the doorknob. "Vaughn!" she hissed frantically as he began to twist. "Not yet!"

She was too late to halt his movement. A blaring alarm pierced through the night, destroying any hope of completing their mission without incident.


	11. Over and Out

-Over and Out-

Sydney wasted no time in following Vaughn as he raced down the corridor and into the east stairwell, the blaring sound of the alarm resonating in her ears. After a quick check for security cameras that could expose their location, they sprinted up the stairs.

Finding the ninth floor devoid of activity, _they must still think we're on the sixth_, Sydney drew her weapon and eased soundlessly into the hallway. "Stay right behind me and keep as close as you can to the wall," she instructed as they made their way quickly toward the lab.

Reaching the outer lab door Sydney pulled up and cursed under her breath. "You're going to have to buy me a few minutes." When she received no response, she looked up at him, "Vaughn?"

His adrenalin pumping, his breath coming in rapid bursts, he looked over at her, calm and decisive as she addressed him. She was here for him. To fix his mistake. He made a sudden decision that he never should have allowed her to be part of this. But by God, there was no force on earth that could get through him if it meant they would get to Sydney.

"Do it."

She kneeled down in front of the door and turned her attention toward breaching the lab. Sending a fervent prayer heavenward that she could somehow channel Marshall, Sydney removed the outer panel of the electronic lock. She studied the protruding wires for only a moment before diving in, cutting, twisting, and taping together, joining exposed tips.

With drawn pistol, Vaughn hovered over her, alternately pacing and scanning the corridor.

A loud _click_ told them the lock was disengaged. They were through the door an instant later, firmly closing it behind them.

Inside, Sydney and Vaughn scanned their darkened surroundings. The room looked as one would expect a laboratory to be painted in the flowery language of an old science fiction novel. Brightly colored chemicals vied for space with electronic equipment and test tubes strewn across large metal tables. But what made this particular lab distinct were its walls. From ground to ceiling, lit glass enclosures held mysterious objects and lined three of four sides of the room. What they were, Sydney had no idea; but she did know that the sheer number of cages would increase the difficulty of their task exponentially.

Without a word they split up to cover ground more quickly, Vaughn heading right and Sydney to the left, hurriedly examining each glass container for – what? It occurred to her that apart from a general size and weight she had no idea what this artifact would look like. Vaughn must have been reading her mind.

"Syd, what the hell are we supposed to be looking for?" he yelled to be heard over the din of the earsplitting alarm.

"I only saw the wooden chest that it was held in!"

"No chest." he bit out as he shifted to the next row of glass cells.

"Vaughn!" Sydney called, catching his attention, "look at this!" Glancing to the table she grasped a large microscope, braced her feet and heaved it into the nearest glass panel. Shattering the obstacle, she carefully reached in and drew out a bronze sphere slightly larger than a softball.

Vaughn hurried to her side as she examined the object. "Rambaldi," he breathed as light from the hall caught the familiar engraving.

The sound of footsteps pounding down the corridor broke the sphere's hold over Sydney and Vaughn. "Let's hope this is it," she said, stuffing the orb in her bag. "We've got to get out of here."

At Vaughn's affirming nod they turned in unison toward the door, just in time to see it explode inward.

"Vaughn, get down!" she ordered as she grabbed a handful of collar and propelled him behind the nearest workstation. Diving to the left she hit the floor just as the first burst of gunfire spouted from their assailant's automatic.

Unable to return fire, Sydney tried to make herself as small as possible as glass shattered around her and bullets bit into the stainless steel that served as her cover. Lying prone on her stomach she peered cautiously around the table.

The tall guard was framed ominously in the doorway, methodically moving through the room with the probing fire of his Heckler & Koch SMG.

_Shit._ Sydney took a deep breath. She needed to focus. She squirmed closer to the edge, scraping as cautiously as possible over the broken glass; then slowly rose to a crouch, dragging her Sig 9-mm from the back of her waistband.

A beat before she would have stood to return fire, Sydney caught short as she spotted Vaugh running at a crouch toward the right, attempting to make use of the ruble to surprise the guard from the side. _He's too far out. His pistol won't stand a chance against that SMG._

From her position she heard the steady cough of the guard's gun, but she could only concentrate on Vaughn. Making a snap decision she scrambled to her feet and fired four quick shots, shattering the glass that she hoped was just to the right of the guard. Not waiting to see if her distraction was successful, she barreled toward him, gun pointed forward; ready to risk a bullet if it meant giving Vaughn a chance to take out the gunman.

As she moved Vaughn crashed into the guard and deflected his aim with a powerful kick to the forearm. A second later Vaughn's fist slammed into his chin, causing the gunman's head to snap back as he staggered, then crumpled to the ground.

Weak with relief at the fact that they both had survived unscathed, Sydney permitted herself to steal a quick glance at Vaughn to assess for herself whether he was alright. His boyish half grin made her blush despite the harrowing circumstances. _Damn_, Sydney thought, _keep moving_. She forced her gaze away. As she moved passed the downed man she bent to retrieve his weapon, throwing it over her shoulder before heading down the hallway and trusting that Vaughn would follow her lead.

Moving down the corridor with increasing speed, Sydney knew that the sound of gunfire would be sure to draw more goons. With Vaughn close behind, she sprinted toward the elevator and adjoining stairwell while simultaneously reloading, taking the partially depleted magazine from her pistol, pocketing it, and inserting a full one from her belt.

Twenty feet from her goal, Sydney's fears were realized as the light above the elevator announced another visitor to their floor. Vaughn pulled up short and aimed his gun toward the door. Sydney didn't slow down.

As the doors began to open she caught sight of a guard standing ready. By the time the elevator doors had spread two feet, two steps were all that separated her from her newly acquired target. Surprised, the guard reached behind him for a gun; but it was too late.

Accelerating her pace, Sydney propelled herself through the doors at full tilt and collided with the frantic gunman. An elbow to his cheek laid the skin open down to the bone. Without waiting to see if she had done enough damage to take him out permanently, she drove her knee upwards into his groin, inducing a strangled gasp as air forcibly expelled from his lungs. With a moan, the guard's knees buckled and he slid to the floor of the elevator, clutching his midsection with both hands.

Sydney picked up his weapon and tossed it to a shocked Vaughn. Backing up, she pressed the button for the lobby, hoping it would buy them some time, at least until the doors opened and deposited her handiwork with whomever else happened to be on duty.

"Impressive." Vaughn's voice drew her focus from the closing doors of the elevator. "Why kill a man when you can ruin his sex life for the next month?"

Sydney fixed him with a pseudo-serious stare, "Just remember that next time we're on the ice." She grinned and gave him a wink. "Come on let's get out of here, I'm not sure how many more times I can keep your ass out of trouble."

Vaughn stifled a laugh as he threw open the door to the stairwell. His humor choked to a grimace at the unmistakable sound of heavy boots pounding their way up the stairs. Sydney leaned over the railing and looked down. At least a dozen men were making their way up the stairs, and as of right now they were only a few floors down. If the options were fight or flight, overwhelming odds such as these called for the latter. Only one direction to go: up.

Aided by the fact that their pursuers had started on the street level, Sydney and Vaughn gained significant ground by the time they reached the roof access. _Apparently SOME security team needs to work on their Stairmaster,_ Sydney smiled to herself.

At the top of the stairwell a door marked _ROOF ACCESS – DO NOT OPEN, ALARM WILL SOUND_ stood solidly in their path. Sydney tried pushing through, but it wouldn't give. A cursory glance confirmed that the hinges were rusted from moisture and lack of use.

"Well," she offered with a sardonic grin, "at least we don't have to worry about the alarm."

Vaughn mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'smartass' as he backed up a few steps to consider their options. If their lives hadn't been at stake she would have pursued that statement further, but given the circumstances she decided her energy was best spent on getting through the door.

"I'll stall the posse, you get us through that door," Sydney commanded as she stowed her pistol and drew the guard's SMG. Angling down the stairway she opened fire. Three bursts later the stairway was clear.

Sydney's head snapped up at the sound of gunfire coming from Vaughn's direction. Then the shooting stopped, and in the sudden silence Vaughn flew past her in a blur. _He shot out the hinges. Smart boy._ Vaughn threw himself at the door, dipping his shoulder to absorb the brunt of the impact. The hinges creaked and then gave, causing Vaughn's momentum to send him careening onto the rooftop.

By the time Sydney had followed him through the doorway, Vaughn was already back on his feet, hand tightened on the grip of his pistol and scanning the empty rooftop for an avenue of escape.

Vaughn hurried to a pile of gallon buckets stacked neatly alongside the ledge that ran the length of the roof. Praying for a stroke of luck, he knelt down to read the label on the containers. He felt a rush of relief as he read the words _ACE Paint Thinner_. He grabbed four of the pails and glanced over his shoulder to where Sydney was leaning over the edge of the building.

"Syd!" Vaughn called as he crossed toward the door that he had only moments ago burst through. "Give me a hand with this paint thinner."

He didn't wait to see if she was moving before heaving the pails as hard as he could toward the roof access landing. Two out of three cans split open on impact. By the time he had thrown his fourth, Sydney was beside him and was mimicking his action. Seeing the slight upward curve of her lips Vaughn knew she had guessed what he had in mind.

"Ready, aim, fire." Vaughn said quietly as he took aim at the pooled liquid and discharged his gun.

The shockwave from the explosion hit him like a punch, and with a _whoosh_ the doorway to burst in to flames, effectively engulfing the only route by which the guards could reach them.

Sydney turned to Vaughn, "Now all we need to do is get the hell off this roof."

"As long as I don't have to attack any more metal objects with my body, I think I can manage." Vaughn said through gritted teeth as he stiffly massaged his aching shoulder.

"If you play your cards right, maybe I'll give you a massage later."

Sydney's eyes widened fractionally as she reviewed what she had just said. She had meant it as a joke, but somehow bypassing her conscious brain, the delivery of that line had come out more serious than she intended.

Grinning at her expression, he decided that this might not be the most opportune time to press the issue. "Right." he hedged, cautiously. He was well aware of the fact that Sydney's comment had taken her by surprise. For the first time in months he realized he didn't feel the least bit guilty about the giddiness he always experienced when things with Sydney moved just beyond the realm of friendship. That was enough for now. "We should focus on finding a way off this rooftop."

Sydney slowly let out a relieved breath. He had decided to let her off lightly. "No problem. While you were busy using your Boy Scout skills to start fires I was working on a way off of this building."

Vaughn watched with rapt attention as she ran toward the edge of the roof and vaulted over the side. His mouth opened in horror. "Syd!" he cried as he dashed to rim and looked over the ledge. There, standing not fifteen feet below him was Sydney grinning smugly, a helicopter on its landing pad directly behind her.

"What?" she asked playfully. "Do you need me to catch you?"


	12. Fate

-Fate-

The plane had been in the air for over an hour, and Sydney was still caught in an awkward limbo between physically exhausted and mentally wired. The combination made her restless. She glanced across the cramped space and found that Vaughn was obviously not suffering the same difficulty. She sighed as she tapped her fingers on the arm of the seat and reviewed the day's events. _God_, _it had been a great day_. She could still feel the after effects of the adrenaline that had pulsed through her body as she and Vaughn retrieved the artifact and skillfully evaded capture. The two of them worked so well together, and they had such a good time doing it. No one could pull off playful banter in the midst of life and death situations as well as the Bristow-Vaughn team. She smiled as her eyes lingered on his sleeping form. The man was sexy. She wanted desperately to close the distance between them and crawl onto his lap. _Oh, if it were only that easy_. Vaughn may be married to a traitorous witch but he was still married, she reminded herself. And even if he weren't, there were a lot of things they would have to work through before any physical contact would be in order.

As her eyes continued to scan the room Sydney's attention fell on the black bag that she had carried during their mission. Looking at the spherical bulge protruding from the lower left side, it occurred to her that she still had no idea what exactly this 'Golden End' was. Sydney rose from her seat and, crossing to her bag, slowly removed the artifact. Holding the cool orb in her hands, she examined it. It weighed roughly eight pounds and was about five or six inches in diameter. As far as she could tell, the artifact was made entirely of bronze. The surface had been intricately engraved to resemble the earth's topography and was amazingly accurate considering most 16th century maps. She gently ran her hand over the façade and felt the bumpy texture on the pads of her fingers. Stopping abruptly, she investigated more closely and discovered a deep fissure that ran from the North to the South Pole, dividing the eastern and western Hemispheres. Pulling a screwdriver from her bag, she thrust it into the crevasse and pried the two pieces apart. A small hinge that had been hidden on the inside allowed the two halves to swing away from each other easily. Her eyes widened as she studied the interior of the orb. _Oh my god_.

""

"Agent Bristow, Agent Vaughn. Please come in," Dixon smiled as he held open his office door. Sydney and Vaughn entered the room and slid quietly into the chairs across from the director's desk. Dixon sat down and leaned back in his seat, his hands loosely steepled. He exhaled comfortably, "What can I do for you two?"

Instead of answering, Sydney opened her bag and retrieved the orb. She slid it slowly across the surface of Dixon's desk and sat back in her chair. The director studied the sphere for a moment before his eyes widened in recognition. "Is this…" he breathed.

"Yes," Sydney answered. "It's the 'Golden End.'" Dixon looked up and waited for her to continue, but the explanation came from Vaughn.

"A few days ago I acquired information that led me to believe that the artifact was being held at a Covenant base in Azerbaijan. Yesterday, Sydney and I went to retrieve it."

Dixon's eyebrows shot up and then came crashing down. "How did you acquire this information? And why wasn't I notified?" he demanded, gathering steam.

Vaughn resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, "I found our mole."

""

"You have got to be shitting me."

Weiss, warming to his subject, began to pace around his living room, gesticulating wildly as he spoke, "Lauren is the mole. _Lauren_. Your wife Lauren?"

"Yes." Vaughn's voice sounded brittle and his eyes pleaded with Weiss to let it drop.

Softening, Weiss eased onto the couch next to him and sighed. "Oh, man. I'm sorry buddy. That really blows."

"And the worst part is that in order to use this to our advantage, I need to pretend that I don't know. I have to share my bed with a Covenant spy," Vaughn concluded raggedly.

"Well," Weiss studied his friend for a long minute, "it's not like you haven't been doing it all along." He saw the flash of hurt in Vaughn's eyes and an intense guilt shot instantly through him. "I'm sorry… I…"

Vaughn dismissed the apology as his gaze hardened, "No, you're right."

Weiss' cell phone rang. He listened for a moment before responding, "We'll be right in."

""

Twenty minutes later, Weiss and Vaughn took their seats as Dixon entered the conference room.

"Alright people, we have a situation."

Marshall looked around the room and then spoke up awkwardly, "Shouldn't we…uh…aren't we going to wait for Ms. Reed?"

"No we're not." Vaughn delivered the single sentence in a low, intense tone, causing Marshall to take a nervous step backwards and stumble into his seat.

Dixon cleared his throat, drawing the room's attention, "We have recently come to suspect that our failures as of late have not been coincidental. We were led to believe that there is a mole in our department. We were right."

Emotion flickered in Jack Bristow's eyes and Vaughn fought to contain a smile. The man was never caught off guard like this. He looked over at Sydney to see if she had noticed her father's surprise, but it was clear that she hadn't. She appeared to be deep in thought. Something obviously had her bothered and it wasn't the news that Lauren was a Covenant mole. An elbow in his side courtesy of Weiss made him redirect his attention to the meeting underway.

"… we will be holding another debrief tonight detailing our recovery of the 'Golden End.' Ms. Reed is bound to know about the missing artifact, so there is no use trying to deny it was the CIA. Jack will explain that there were undercover agents working in Azerbaijan and they effected our retrieval. We will also lead her to believe that the artifact is being held in one of our facilities. When Ms. Reed makes contact with Sark we will be able to either track her using the device implanted by Agent Vaughn, or listen to their plans on Marshall's phone tap. Either way, we will know when they have taken the bait."

Weiss spoke up, "What have we learned about the artifact?" Vaughn perked up at that. It hadn't occurred to him that the significance of the artifact may have already been discovered.

Marshall raised his hand timidly, "I uh… actually, I can answer that. I had a chance to study it earlier today." He looked at Dixon and received a nod of approval. Marshall stood as he began to describe his findings, "The artifact is a bronze globe which… wow… is _amazingly_ accurate considering the time in which Rambaldi lived. I mean, this man was pure genius," he grinned widely. "You know how people ask who you'd like to have lunch with whether they're alive, dead or fictional? Well, let me tell you… my answer would be Rambaldi. Hands down. Over a nice pepperoni calzone I would ask him how he…"

"Marshall," Weiss interrupted, "does this train of thought have a caboose?"

"Right…good one, by the way," Marshall continued, "Uh, anyway, the globe opens on its North/South axis to reveal a picture and some text. The image is the same one found on page forty-seven of Rambaldi's manuscript," he looked at Sydney. "It's uh... it's the picture of you."

Vaughn glanced up quickly at that, attempting unsuccessfully to connect with Sydney. Her gaze was focused straight ahead, and strangely, she didn't look surprised at the new information. He saw only fatigue and quiet resignation in her bearing. He, on the other hand, was fuming. The last thing Sydney deserved was a dead prophet sticking his nose into her life again.

"The picture is surrounded by some code that I have not yet been able to break. It's like nothing I've seen before, and though I may be smart… like I said, Rambaldi was a genius, so…" he looked at Dixon, "I will work on it." Marshall began to sit down but jumped back up before he had settled. "Oh! And the other half of the sphere, the one opposite Agent Bristow's picture is in Italian. So, you know… that was no problem. It reads:

'_You cannot fight fate. You can only fulfill your destiny_.'"

"Thank you, Marshall. We will reconvene in two hours for our debriefing with Lauren. Remember, we must all act as though we are unaware of her true allegiance. This meeting never took place."

Sydney stood quickly and strode purposefully toward the door with her head down. She knew that she would face a myriad of questions if she didn't get out of there fast enough, and while she appreciated her friends' concern, she was in no mood to deal with it. She managed to make it out of the room and almost to her desk before she felt a hand on her arm, accompanied by a familiar voice.

"Sydney," it was a sound that combined concern with desperation.

Though she stopped, she spoke without turning, "Not now, Vaughn. I… can't."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked softly.

Sydney whipped around and jerked her arm from his grasp. Her voice wavered as she struggled to control her volume. "Tell you what, Vaughn," she hissed. "Tell you that some psychopath fortuneteller has decreed that my life is not my own? Tell you that I am doomed to destroy the world?"

She had to stop to swallow the lump in her throat. Eyes cast downward in defeat, she fell from irate to resigned in the span of a moment, "_Unless prevented at vulgar cost, this woman will lead the greatest power unto utter desolation_." In a voice so strained he barely heard her, as though she were carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, Sydney continued, "That's what he's referring to. That is _my_ fate, Vaughn. Desolation." She lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose as if to ward off a headache, or maybe tears. With her hand covering her face, Vaughn wasn't sure which.

Watching her shoulders hunch, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, he realized that this idea, this awful concern was killing her and had been for quite some time. That knowledge caused his chest to tighten. But before he could formulate a response, she had spun on her heel and taken two long strides toward the door.

"Sydney," he tried again, this time almost frantic. He couldn't let her bare this burden alone.

Turning to face him she faltered, her throat tight and dry, eyes focused on a point on his chest, refusing to make eye contact. "What do you want, Vaughn?"

His green eyes were pleading as he cautiously approached her, afraid she might bolt if he moved too quickly. "I don't want you to leave like this," he breathed brokenly, forgetting their current location and reaching out to touch her. It wasn't until his hand cupped her cheek that he remembered where they were, who they were.

She shook him off, her tone biting, "Go back to your wife."

The unexpected outburst burned him. "That's not fair, Sydney, and you know it."

Meeting his eyes for the first time in the conversation, she spoke with conviction, "No, Vaughn, it's not."

Outwardly frozen, agony wringing his chest, he watched her walk away.

""

"Had better days, huh?" Andrew observed as he opened the door to greet his brother-in-law.

"You could say that," Vaughn answered weakly.

Andrew stepped aside and gestured toward the back of the house, "She's in there."

Vaughn entered and crossed to the kitchen, finding his sister toiling laboriously over a cutting board full of vegetables. She looked up and smiled as he entered the room.

Turning to her husband Ella offered, "Sweetie, why don't you go finish watching your game. I'll call you when dinner is ready."

"You don't have to ask me twice," he grinned as he kissed her on the cheek before slipping quietly out of the room.

Once they were alone, Ella's eyes narrowed. "Alright, spill."

Vaughn shook his head ruefully as he lowered himself onto a barstool, "I don't even know where to begin."

"Try the beginning," she quipped.

He looked up and caught her gaze. Feeling awkward and ineffective as he so often did when faced with having to discuss his feelings, he ran a hand through his hair. "Well," he began, "I suppose I'll start with the fact that I never loved Lauren."

"Tell me something I don't know," she said casually as she popped a piece of celery into her mouth.

Annoyed with her perceived omniscience, he decided to throw a curveball. "I'm in love with Sydney," he announced defiantly.

Ella only rolled her eyes playfully and laughed. She spoke between bites, "I said 'something I don't know.'"

Not wanting to perform the Heimlich, he waited for her to swallow. "Lauren is an enemy spy and Sydney is fated to destroy the world."

""""""""""

Bad news, my dear readers. Today is a day of grieving, for I will lose my cable internet connection. Yes, you read right. I am no longer steadily connected to the world wide web of wonder and instant gratification. I'm very distraught about this and am convinced I will have trouble breathing if not properly connected to the net.

With my beta in the next state (instead of the next room), and my internet found only at the local Starbucks, updates will not be as rapid. I apologize profusely.

I have a few chapters already written, so fret not… this is not the end. The saga continues…


	13. Cover

Chapter 13

-Covers-

As he watched Lauren enter the conference room, Vaughn thanked whatever powers had seen to it that Sydney had not yet arrived. What he was about to do would be hard enough without her watchful gaze on him. He took a deep, cleansing breath before plastering a passable smile on his face and turning to greet his wife.

"Hi Sweetie," he said as he wrapped his arm around her back and escorted her to an empty chair. If his voice was a little too bright, he could only hope that she wouldn't notice. He bent to place a chaste peck on her cheek before sliding into the seat beside her.

"Michael dear, it has been too long since I've seen you."She gently cupped his face with her hands and whispered conspiratorially, "We'll have to remedy that tonight."

It was all Vaughn could do to suppress his gag reflex. Dry heaving at this point would more than likely tip her off. But while he had resigned himself to the role of doting husband in this warped charade for the next few days, he would rather endure death by red hot poker than share this woman's bed.

He strove for lilting resignation, "Actually, Sweetheart, I'm afraid I won't be coming home tonight. Eric is… doing a stakeout all evening as a favor to his friend Dale. He thinks his wife is cheating on him, and well, Dale is a bit paranoid. But he's done Eric a few favors in the past, so it's the least he can do. Anyway, Eric wanted some company. I hope you don't mind." Vaughn shot her his most pleading boyish grin. Batting his eyelashes would probably be overdoing it.

Without missing a beat Lauren responded amiably, "Of course, Michael. I understand." She caressed his cheek with her hand, "You are such a good friend."

Swallowing down his repulsion in preparation for the grand finale, Vaughn forced a smile and leaned into her body as he whispered huskily in her ear, "But I'd like a rain check."

Mercifully, Lauren's response was cut short as Dixon and Sydney entered the room. Vaughn tried unsuccessfully to read Sydney's expression as he slowly pulled away from Lauren, leaving his arm draped possessively around her shoulder.

"Good news," Dixon began without preamble, "we've acquired Rambaldi's 'Golden End.'"

Vaughn felt a gratifying rush as he saw surprise peek through Lauren's insouciant façade.

""

As Lauren made her way toward the parking garage, the remaining members of the team gathered in the cramped confines of Marshall's office. Without enough room to pace, Vaughn, Dixon, Sydney, Weiss, and Marshall were relegated to hovering over Vaughn's cell phone as they held a collective breath waiting for it to ring. Jack was there too, but Vaughn had a hard time distinguishing between 'Jack holding his breath waiting' and 'Jack just waiting.'

"Anyone want a gummy worm? I ran out of bears," Marshall offered suddenly, thrusting a container of candy toward the group.

Weiss shot a furtive look toward Jack before rubbing his hands together greedily, "Oo… can I have a red one?"

"Sure," Marshall said as he plunged his fist into the jar and came up with a handful of worms. "Would you like a red/orange or red/white?"

"Either. I'm easy, I just don't like green." He plucked one, then another from Marshall's outstretched palm.

Marshall nodded in vigorous concurrence and grabbed a red worm of his own.

"Anyone else?" Marshall asked again. "They're very tasty. The vacuum seal on the container keeps them from being exposed to extraneous gasses which..." He trailed off uncomfortably as he was met with blank stares and a few passionless headshakes. Shrugging his shoulders he contented himself with munching on worms in silence.

The shrill ring of a cell phone echoed through the small office, saving one worm that was poised for consumption when Marshall gasped in surprise and flung it across the room.

Lauren was making a call.

The voice resonating through the speakers now connected to the small phone was distinctly British; distinctly Sark. "Hello, Love."

Lauren's voice wavered, "You were right. It was the CIA. They have the artifact."

"Where is it?"

"A CIA facility."

"Care to narrow that down a bit," he asked testily.

"I can't," her tone grew sharp, "I don't have that information."

"Does your husband?"

"I will find out."

"Do it tonight," he ordered.

Her response was just as firm. "He's not coming home tonight."

"He's not?"

"No, he's not," she confirmed.

"Hmm. Well then, find out tomorrow."

The line disconnected and the previously frozen occupants of the room burst into motion.

Dixon looked to Jack, "Call the team, tell them to prep site 4B. Marshall," he continued, "keep tabs on Lauren via the tracking device and tell us if there's unusual movement. Vaughn, when your wife asks where the artifact is held, you will tell her it is in our special research facility, which we will lead her to believe is located at 4B."

Dixon then addressed the room, "Alright team. Let's catch Ms. Reed and Mr. Sark. You know what is at stake."

""

Lauren took another long look at herself in the bathroom mirror. She wondered not for the first time as to the whereabouts of her husband. Was he beginning to suspect? No, he wasn't that perceptive. More than likely he was somewhere pining for Bristow. Oh well, at least it afforded her a reprieve for the evening. When she heard the front door open she bit back an expletive. As footsteps neared her door, she grabbed her novel and slipped under the covers, readying herself to probe her husband for details.

Without looking up from her book, she asked casually, "How was the stakeout?"

"I wouldn't know, would I?" came the unexpected reply.

Though overjoyed, Lauren maintained a cool exterior, "Julian, what are you doing here?"

Sark kicked off his shoes and removed his jacket before crossing to the bed. "Anything you want, Love. Absolutely anything."

""

"Stakeout, eh? Interesting."

"Come on, Eric. It was either make up a lame excuse or spend another night with her."

"And why wasn't 'make up a good excuse' one of the options?" Weiss asked as he took a pull of his beer.

Vaughn pointedly ignored him while sifting through cartons of Chinese takeout. "What did you do with the Pork Fried Rice?"

Passing him a box, Weiss posed the burning question, "So, what's going on with you and Syd?"

"Nothing," he moved a shoulder indifferently as he reached for his chopsticks.

Weiss scoffed, pinning Vaughn with an accusing gaze, "Don't give me that. Something happened." He quirked a knowing eyebrow and waited.

"I told her I love her."

Grinning smugly, Weiss reached over and relieved Vaughn of the Pork Fried Rice, "See? I knew something happened."

""

"Ice cream?" Ella offered.

Sydney eyed her dubiously, "With wine?"

"You're right," she conceded. "Tequila?"

"Now you're talking."

Standing up, Ella gestured toward the kitchen as she made her way to the cabinet and pulled down a bottle of Cuervo Gold.

Sydney opened the freezer, inspecting its contents. "Wow, you have a lot of ice cream," she said with a trace of awe.

"I'm prepared for any craving."

"Double chocolate, Cherry Chip, Fudge Caramel Swirl or Lime Sherbet?"

"Lime, of course. How else do you plan on making a margarita?" Ella asked as she pulled out two glasses.

"You," Sydney smiled, "are genius."

Ella's eyes widened as she accepted the container from Sydney, "You mean to tell me that you've never tried this before?"

Sydney shook her head.

"Well, you are in for a treat."

"You're not going to take advantage of me, are you?"

"Why," Ella laughed as she scooped the sherbet, "are you an easy drunk?"

"Only if you happen to be my best friend who I love dearly but have never considered in the romantic sense."

Ella cocked an eyebrow.

"You wish."

"So…" she prompted innocently while deftly measuring the tequila into two large tumblers, "what's going on with you and my big brother?"

"You mean your _married_ big brother?"

"I only have one," Ella reminded her, "You know – six-foot, 180 pounds, green eyes… and desperately in love with you."

Sydney looked at her skeptically, "El, he is married."

Ella only grinned. "So?"

Shaking her head, Sydney laughed, "Tell me you did not just 'so' the sanctity of marriage."

Ella's smile grew wider. "Tell me that you don't _want_ to 'so' it," she quipped with a meaningful look.

Sydney smiled briefly, her gaze dropping down to the floor. After a long pause she answered honestly, "Regardless of whether or not I want to, there's no way that I actually would."

Ella watched the expressions flit across Sydney's face. It was readily apparent that she had suffered a tremendous amount of pain at the unwitting hands of Michael Vaughn.

"You know you two can get through this," Ella's insisted, placing a comforting hand on Sydney's shoulder. "If you want it to happen, make it happen."

Her brow creased and Ella could see she was struggling to find the words to voice her thoughts. "It's not as easy as that. There are so many forces against us."

"From what I hear, there have always been forces against you. But it didn't stop you before."

Sydney glanced away for a moment, "Maybe we were just kidding ourselves, maybe we're not meant to..."

Ella laughed outright. "I'm sorry? Did you just use fate as an excuse?"

Sydney lapsed into silence, considering. A tangled web of seemingly random events had combined to bring her to this moment. Was this where she was supposed to be? Could she have done something to alter her course? Sydney had never considered herself helpless. And when this prophesy came around she was the first one to argue that it was ridiculous. But looking back at her life she could clearly identify a veritable wake of destruction. The effect that her presence had on those that she loved – Danny, Francie… even Will – was horrific. She had spent twenty years idealizing a mother who turned out to be a monster and a traitor. She had spent seven years fighting tooth and nail against the American government. And all the time and effort she put into destroying the Alliance, into repaying her country for all the damage that she had caused was a lie. Sloane orchestrated the fall of SD-6 to benefit his own objectives. And what was worse was the fact that he had used her as an unwitting pawn. Maybe she was fated to destroy the world… she was already well on her way there.

She gave up on finding the answer. "Yeah," her voice was practically a whisper, "yeah, I did."

"Well that, my dear, is pure malarkey. If fate had anything to do with you two, it was in bringing you together. But you have the power to control your own destiny."

Sydney snorted, her gaze growing distant.

"I'm serious," Ella's voice was softly persuasive, "I think you were meant to be."

Exhaling slowly Sydney countered, "If it was fate he wouldn't be married."

"Being in love means overcoming obstacles."

"Maybe," Sydney acknowledged, "but it also means not giving up."

""

Sark and Lauren lay tangled in her sheets after a particularly exhausting evening. Lauren sat up, dangling her feet over the side of the bed. Demurely looking over her shoulder she purred, "I'm going to take a shower. Would you care to join me?"

Sark rolled over to face her, softly running the pads of his fingertips along her back, stroking up and down its length. "I think I just may," he whispered, placing a kiss on her naked shoulder before he trailed his lips across her skin, slowly making his way toward her neck. Suddenly he pulled back, "What is this?"

"What?"

"What happened to your back?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked again, straining to see whatever had him so upset.

Sark slammed his hand hard against the mattress. "Shit."


	14. Nightmare

-Nightmare-

Vaughn shifted restlessly on Weiss' couch, unable to get comfortable. He grabbed the back cushions and threw them on the floor in an attempt to make more room. He re-fluffed his pillow, punching it twice for good measure. No luck.__

He sat upright and rubbed his eyes into focus. Grabbing his watch off the coffee table, he strained to read the hands in the slit of moonlight that poured in from the window. It was well after three; and Vaughn was wide-awake.

With a heavy sigh he acquiesced to futility and admitted to himself that there was no hope of further sleep. He stood to stretch. As he lifted his arms over his head, he rotated his neck to relieve some of the kinks. Finding a particularly nasty knot, he used his hands to knead the muscle. When he tilted his head to allow for better access his eyes fell on Weiss' sliding glass door.

Taking one last stretch, Vaughn scuffed on his shoes and grabbed his Kings sweatshirt, pulling it over his head as he walked to the door and out onto the small deck. He critically eyed the lone piece of patio furniture. It was a rusty old folding chair that Weiss had obviously acquired from one of those garage sale tables labeled 'Free Stuff.' Those tables for some reason drew Weiss like a moth to a flame. Vaughn laughed to himself as he perched gingerly on the decrepit chair. Perhaps as a thank you to Eric he would buy him a matching set of functional, non-corroded chairs.

Leaning back, he took a moment to study the night sky. It was an uncharacteristically clear night in Los Angeles. Rarely could so many stars be seen. Recalling back to the days of his college astronomy course, Vaughn struggled remember how to locate the constellations. Finding a familiar pattern, he smiled. _Cassiopeia, the ' w.'_

As he searched the sky for Orion, a soft cry broke the night's silence. Startled, Vaughn automatically reached for his gun, immediately on the defensive. His hand came up empty on the soft flannel of his pajama pants. He had left it in the glove box of his car. Another cry caused him to tense, trying to pinpoint the origin. _Sydney's apartment._ His stomach clenched.

Cursing his lack of weapon, Vaughn decided he didn't have time to go search for a gun. Sydney was in trouble and she needed help now. Standing atop the deck's railing, he stepped easily across and onto Sydney's. He hastily approached her sliding glass door and gave it a tug. Locked. Vaughn looked quickly around the small deck. Latching onto one of the metal chairs from her patio set he drew it back like a club. Turning his head to shield his face, he slammed the chair into the glass, shattering the giant pane with a deafening crash.

All hope of stealth long abandoned, Vaughn pushed through the now useless door and into the kitchen, pausing only long enough to remove a knife from the wooden block. After scanning the empty living room he continued on to the bedroom. Finding the door slightly ajar and the house eerily silent, he readied the knife and peeked cautiously into the darkened bedroom. Not two inches in he suddenly felt the cold hard pressure of a gun barrel leveled against his temple and heard the resounding click of a drawn hammer echo through the stillness. _Shit._

"Vaughn?" The gun fell from him with a soft _whoosh_.

"Sydney? Are you alright?" He flicked on the lamp and scanned for intruders, flushing with embarrassment when he realized that she was alone in her bedroom.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?"

"I…I was outside and I heard…you sounded like you were in trouble." He looked self-consciously at the knife still clutched tightly in his hand. "I'm sorry."

Relaxing slightly, Sydney walked to her bed and lowered herself onto the edge, placing her gun on the side table. She was exhausted. She hadn't been sleeping much lately, and when she did manage to doze off her rest was fitful and fraught with nightmares. Suddenly reminded of Vaughn's presence, she wondered what a wreck she must look like.

Vaughn drank in the sight before him. Sydney sat on her bed in a tank top and boxers, and her hair falling from her tussled ponytail, eyes heavily lidded. Her hard exterior had softened and in her eyes he saw unusual vulnerability. The sheets behind her were hopelessly twisted and both pillows lay on the floor. It looked as though she'd done more than a little tossing and turning. The background only added to the picture of fatigue. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and shelter her from the outside world, but instead settled for honest concern.

"Syd," Vaughn said softly as he approached her and placed his knife alongside her gun, "are you alright?"

"Yeah," she dismissed, "of course. I'm fine."

Unconvinced, he took a seat on the bed beside her and cupped her chin with his palm, turning her to face him. "Sydney, how often do you have nightmares?"

She smiled crookedly, "A little more frequently than I actually sleep." Immediately she recognized the look on Vaughn's face. It was sympathy. She certainly did not need that, especially from Vaughn. She attempted to back peddle. "I haven't been having them long, and they're not that bad really. Don't worry about it."

"I'd bet that you have had them for a long time. And I know that they are bad… I saw the effect one had on you when we were on the plane to Greece, remember? And tonight I heard you from next door. From the look of your sheets, you've been doing some wrestling. I want to worry about it, Syd. I care about you."

"It's not a big deal. I'm sorry to have disturbed you. Please…I'm fine," she said again, as if by repeating the words she could force it to be true.

Realizing that Sydney would only continue to maintain her staunch denials, Vaughn chose not to press the issue. "Well, if you change your mind and decide that you would like to talk about it – you know you can come to me. And no matter what happens between us, I will always care about you. And I care about your well being," he shot her a sly smile, "which is why I'm going to go do something about that giant hole in the side of your house."

"That _you _created!" she countered lightly, grateful that he seemed to understand her need to deal with this on her own.

Vaughn arched an eyebrow. "I never said I didn't."

Smiling, Sydney reached to her side table and picked up the knife. Handing it to Vaughn she instructed, "Take this back while you're out there. And next time you're set on saving someone… I'd opt for the butcher knife rather than the bread knife."

Noticing his mistake for the first time, Vaughn laughed. He reached out to relieve her of the object, making sure his fingers brushed hers as he grabbed the wooden handle. Their eyes locked for only a moment, and he stood. "Where do you keep your broom?"

"Right this way," Sydney spoke as she rose and led Vaughn to a small closet in the hallway. She pulled out the broom and dustpan and handed them to him before continuing into the kitchen. "I'm going to make myself some tea. Would you like some?"

"I'd love some."

Sydney filled the kettle with water, watching as Vaughn began to sweep up the shards of glass scattered across her hardwood floor.

"You certainly did a number on that door."

He flashed her a saccharine, almost challenging smile, "I never go halfway."

Despite herself, she began to feel the tension drain from her body. It felt good to be able to tease him again. "Someday I'll teach you how to pick locks."

Vaughn looked up from the dustpan. "That would have involved me going around to the front door."

"Heaven forbid!" she mocked playfully.

"Hey! I thought you were in danger!" he protested with a half-hearted huff.

She shot him a skeptical look before placing the kettle on the stove and switching on the heat.

Turning serious, Vaughn shook his head. "I know you can handle yourself Syd, but you're not invincible."

"You think that _you_ could protect me?" she asked dryly. She leaned her back against the counter and crossed her arms. "Didn't you pay attention in logic class? If A can kick B's ass, and B can kick C's, then C would not stand a chance against A."

Against his will, the corner of Vaughn's mouth kicked up, though he would never admit to smiling. "I'm sorry, am I supposed to be 'C' in this scenario?"

"Yes," she announced with a grin and a firm nod of her head.

"You think that you could kick my ass?" he asked with exaggerated incredulity, leaning the broom against the wall.

"I know I could," she said with confidence. "And so it follows that hypothetical intruder 'A' could pummel you as well."

"Is that a challenge, Bristow?" he demanded, approaching her slowly.

Smiling, she stood firmly in place. "No, Vaughn. It's a fact."

"Is it?" Attempting a surprise attack, Vaughn suddenly lunged at her, grabbing wildly for her waist. Dodging the anticipated maneuver, Sydney easily danced away from his reach and smacked him upside the head with her palm. Vaughn let out a small yelp.

Turning to face her, he narrowed his eyes. "Oh, so you're serious here. I was just going to give you a wedgie and call it a night, but now… now you're going to pay."

In a surprising display of speed, Vaughn managed to grab Sydney's wrist and twist it, forcefully pinning her arm against her back.

"What are you the school bully?" Sydney chided as she tried to angle her body enough to alleviate some of the pressure on her elbow. "Who still uses this move?"

"Come on," he pressed harder, "it's a classic."

"You're hurting my elbow," she said flatly.

"Say 'uncle,'" Vaughn taunted.

"You realize," Sydney replied seriously, "that I'm going to have to cause you pain."

"You wouldn't hurt a man in flannels…"

"Oh, wouldn't I?" As she spoke, she thrust her leg out behind her, knocking Vaughn off balance and sending him crashing to the floor. In a last ditch effort to maintain his equilibrium, Vaughn threw his arms around her waist, educing an unspy-like squeal as he drug Sydney down with him, his body absorbing her fall when she pitched forward, twisting in his grasp and landing on top of him in a fit of laughter.

Still chuckling, Sydney opened her eyes only to lock with Vaughn's. He was watching her with an intensity that was at once heated and needy. Her laughter caught in her throat.

Belatedly, she recognized the vulnerability of her position. She was lying on top of Vaughn, his arms locked firmly around her waist, his body flush against hers. Touching him had always been a risk; it was dangerous, the energy that it sparked. She felt her body react immediately, a tremor of desire racing through her. Her back was warm where his hand was idly tracing small circles, dipping cautiously under the hem of her shirt, brushing over her skin. Unbidden, memories of languid mornings spent tangled together in bed flashed through her mind. She could still feel the familiar tingling sensation of his lips touching hers, the same feeling that was coursing through her now as she felt every point of contact with his body like the touch of an electric current. Her hands clenched involuntarily, gripping the front of his sweater, pulling him closer.

Sydney watched captivated as Vaughn unconsciously licked his lips.

"So beautiful…." he breathed unsteadily.

"Vaughn," she rasped on an indrawn breath, her inner conflict nearly tangible. She willed herself to pull back, to get up, to do _anything_ other than to close the remaining distance and press her lips against his.

Her heart refused to listen.

She sank into him, laid a barely there kiss on his lips, then pulled back, only to return for a longer, harder taste.

The shrill whistle of the kettle pierced the room, shattering the moment.

Sydney broke away, abruptly rising and putting as much distance as she could between herself and Vaughn. Guilt swamped her. _Weak. I am so weak to have given into him. Why aren't I stronger? _She couldn't do this to him. Berating herself, she fled to the sink, awkwardly straightening her clothing.

Vaughn slowly sat up, his senses reeling, his breathing rough, trying to regain some small measure of control over himself. Whatever was happening with Sydney, he had to get to the bottom of it. After only one kiss all of the emotions that he had bottled up since his declaration last week came flooding to the surface. He was shattered instantly. Irrevocably. He couldn't go on without her.

After pulling the kettle off of the stove, Sydney opened the cupboard and retrieved two mugs. Standing up, Vaughn carefully took both from her and filled them with hot water while Sydney looked distractedly through boxes of tea.

"Peppermint, Chamomile or English Breakfast?" she asked, her voice tight, her spine stiff.

"English Breakfast."

She nodded once and pulled out two teabags, handing one to Vaughn and keeping the other for herself. He watched as she submerged the bag in her water and stared intently as she bobbed it up and down, leaving the water darker and darker with each successive dunk.

"Syd…" he began, struggling against the ache to touch her. He could still taste her on his lips.

She looked up at him and summoned all of the composure that she could gather, "Don't." While her tone booked no argument, conflict raged in her eyes.

"What are you afraid of? I don't understand."

She tore her gaze from his, "I know, Vaughn. I'm sorry. I should never have done that. I shouldn't lead you on."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Now she was… "Lead me on? But, Syd, we're…"

She managed to keep her voice cool as she continued to take her aggression out on the defenseless tea bag, "No. There is no 'we.' There is you and there is me and there is the past. There is no 'we' and there is no future."

Vaughn recoiled as if slapped, stung by the finality in her voice.

She submerged the teabag a few more times and then removed it, tossing it forcefully into the trash. She glanced at the tea for a moment before dumping it down the drain and setting the mug in the sink. "I'm going back to bed. Don't worry about the door," she said, already making her way to her bedroom.

Vaughn watched her leave, uncomprehending. Why was she being so obstinate? Why couldn't she give them another chance? Before, he had tried to convince himself that Sydney might no longer want him; that they were over forever. He had tried to accept it. But when she kissed him he could feel the connection between them. It would always be there; and if that kiss was any indication, she knew it just as well as he did. His mind continued to race as he distractedly stared into his mug. By the time he finally placed it to his mouth it was already stone cold. Sighing, he decided to sweep up the remaining pieces of glass, choosing to ignore her comment about not cleaning up.

As he poured a final dustpan of glass into the garbage, he though he heard a soft whimper coming from Sydney's bedroom. Vaughn crept toward the sound as it became louder and more distressed. He quietly slipped inside the partially cracked door when he saw Sydney in the throes of another nightmare. He watched as she tossed and turned, her face a mask of desperation. It was impossible to sit by and watch. Trying to banish her last harsh words from his mind, he crossed to the bed.

Leaning in, he whispered consolingly, "Syd… Sydney, wake up. Please, Syd, you've got to wake up. You're having a nightmare."

His heart breaking for her, Vaughn moved closer. Tentatively he reached out, placing a hand on her head and running his fingers lightly through her hair. He tenderly shushed her, soothingly repeating her name. Finding that he had a positive effect, Vaughn continued the motion of his hand and sat gently on the edge of her mattress.

"Syd, honey…wake up. Come on, Syd. Shh… you're okay. It's okay, Sydney, I'm here."

Though the crying had calmed, her body was still wracked by violent tremors as she shifted restlessly in her sleep. Lying down beside her, Vaughn pulled her into his embrace and held on tightly, swaying back and forth. Soon her stirring subsided and her breathing leveled, gradually returning to normal. He held her long after she had drifted into a peaceful slumber, much longer than he should have. Vaughn looked at Sydney, always beautiful and now quiescent, and knew he had to go. He kissed her forehead and eased out of the bed, faintly whispering "I love you" before disappearing out the door.

""""

Hey guys! I just wanted to say that I really appreciate those of you who take the time to read (and hopefully enjoy) this story. And I **especially** appreciate those who make the effort to review. You make my day… and I write this for you. J


	15. Best Laid Plans

-Best Laid Plans-

The next morning Sydney was seated in Dixon's office reviewing contingency plans with the director when a frazzled Marshall burst into the room looking for all intents and purposes as though he had just completed a marathon. His cheeks were pink, his chest was heaving, and he appeared to be on the verge of collapse. He attempted to speak through wheezing breaths. "Mr… Mr. Dixon… Sir… I…"

"Marshall," Dixon ordered, "breathe."

Nodding vigorously, Marshall lifted a finger to signal that he only needed a moment and then leaned over, putting his head between his legs, audibly sucking in air.

Sydney tried hard not to laugh, finally placing a hand over her mouth and coughing into it awkwardly. The poor guy had gotten himself incredibly worked up on what must have been the jog from his office – a whopping 200 feet. Perhaps he should get out more. Try a little exercise.

"Mr. Dixon Sir… I… We recorded a call from Mr. Sark to Mrs. Vau... er, uh… I mean, Ms. Reed. They've taken the bait, Sir. Hook, line and sinker. Not… not that they're fish or anything. I mean, Ms. Reed _does_ have unusually large lips, but I don't know that it would necessarily qualify her as a cold-blooded aquatic vertebrate. _Although_…"

"What time?"

"Two hours from now."

Dixon and Sydney began to move towards the door but Marshall's next words stopped them cold.

"There's something else," he added, "I've been examining the manuscript page with the information on the 'Golden End,' you know, to try and find the code… to figure out how… well… there appears to be… something else."

"What do you mean, 'something else'?" Sydney asked warily.

Marshall shrugged, "I don't really know."

""

"Alright team," Dixon addressed the black-clad field agents who stood before him, "intel leads us to believe that our targets will be approaching site 4B within the next half-hour. That does not leave us much time. Bristow, Vaughn – you're on point. As soon as Lauren enters the building, Stevens, Taylor, Pierce and Nickels – you secure the backdoor. Weiss and Gray – you will act as our on-site surveillance. Move out."

As the team broke off, Weiss suddenly realized that he had no idea who these other agents were. Somehow everything he did always involved his small clique of agents. Where did all these other people come from… and _hello_… _who is this lovely lady walking towards me?_

The absolutely stunning creature in question extended a graceful hand, "I'm Natalie Gray."

Weiss took it readily and attempted his most disarming smile, "Very pleased to meet you Agent Gray, I'm Eric…"

"Weiss," she finished for him, her brown eyes shining with mischief. "I know who you are."

"Ah, I see. So, word of my yo-yo abilities precedes me?" he asked casually, feeling an inexplicable reluctance to release her hand.

"Sure. If that's what you want to call it," she patted his cheek and breezed by him, leaving a flustered and smitten Weiss in her wake.

""

Sydney and Vaughn loitered outside of a tiny, non-descript restaurant half a block from 4B. Neither had broached the subject of their previous evening, finding it vastly more desirable to bask in the awkward and wordless tension that had draped over them like a heavy blanket from the moment they found themselves alone.

A cool breeze washed over Vaughn, ruffling his hair. He made a fist and held it in front of his lips, blowing gently into it. Sydney caught a glimpse of his chiseled silhouette out of the corner of her eye. He was unshaven and sunken black circles rimed his tired green eyes. A hard knot formed in her stomach. She knew that she was the cause. For a moment the thought occurred to her that she still loved him; that she always had and that regardless of whether or not it was good for him -- or good for her -- that she always would. But if she had learned one lesson in her life it was that attachments could be fatal. They put your mind in the wrong place at the wrong time. They resulted in exposure, in vulnerability; neither of which they could afford. They had a mission to complete.

""

"Is everyone in position?" Jack's voice crackled through their earpieces.

"This is Mountaineer, Boy Scout and I are in place."

"Hooter has the back exit secured."

"Wolverine here. North exit secure."

"Trinity and Retriever are on the hill," Natalie reported from the surveillance van before switching off her comm.

"Trinity, huh?" Weiss inquired with a sidelong glance as he adjusted a dial on his equipment, "As in the Matrix?"

"I kick a lot of ass," Natalie responded with a dangerous grin, causing Weiss' eyes to widen slightly. "Retriever?" she countered with amusement. "As in the dog?"

Weiss sought desperately to control the flush that rose to his cheeks, "I'm very loyal."

She laughed outright at his response. "Good to know."

"It's a quality that is hard to find," he defended.

"It is true that I find the majority of the men I encounter on this job are charismatic, charming, affectionate, honest, and have a good sense of humor. But dog-like faithfulness, that's rare."

Weiss was mystified by this woman. For the life of him he couldn't tell whether the glimmer in her eye was for his benefit or at his expense. But he knew one thing for certain. He was looking forward to the challenge. He straightened to his full height and puffed out his chest. "And I'm the whole package."

Natalie arched an eyebrow, "Oh, are you?" Her voice was low and enticing.

Weiss spoke on his exhale and winked, "You betcha."

She turned to face him and regarded him appraisingly. As her eyes traveled leisurely over him, Weiss struggled to passively await her assessment. After a moment she nodded decisively. "Alright. Tell me a joke."

"A joke?"

"Yes, a joke. If you claim to have all of those qualities, then I'm going to have to test them," with agonizing slowness she drew out the challenge, leaning into his space, "one by one."

Weiss swallowed hard. The air around him was immediately charged with a heightened awareness. Intellectually, he knew that she was teasing him; but that knowledge did absolutely nothing to assuage the indefinable pull he felt toward her. A pull that grew stronger by the minute. "That's a lot of pressure." His voice had a breathless quality that he attributed solely to her proximity.

"Don't I know it," she grinned and leaned back in her chair, her eyes dancing with humor.

He cleared his throat. "So… two muffins are in an oven. The first one says, 'Damn it's hot in here.' And the second one replies, 'Holy shit! A talking muffin!'"

She cocked her head with an exaggerated frown, "Maybe you're charismatic."

A high-pitched beeping drew their attention back to the mission. Focusing on the monitor in front of her Natalie spoke softly, "Incoming."

As Weiss followed the blinking green dot across the monitor, Natalie put her hand to her earpiece, "Base Ops, we've got her signal approaching. She's four blocks out."

"Copy that."

Weiss and Natalie watched silently as Lauren made her approach to the facility. As she rounded the corner, Weiss sang to no one in particular, "They're here."

Instead of stopping, however, the signal proceeded past the building and continued east, beginning to increase speed. Scrambling for his headset, Weiss updated the team, "We've got a problem. She's moving past you. She's heading down Moorpark."

""

Sydney looked to Vaughn and nodded silently before speaking, "Base Ops, we're going after them."

"On foot?" Weiss asked incredulously. "Syd, we know you're superhuman, but at the speed she's traveling, Lauren must be in a car. You can't catch her on foot."

"We won't have to," Vaughn responded as his eyes fell on the black Ducati parked down the street.

Following his gaze, Sydney smiled, "It even seats two."

Running full tilt, the pair reached the bike in a matter of seconds. Vaughn bypassed the anti-theft immobilizer system while Sydney worked on the ignition. The engine roared to life and Sydney nodded for Vaughn to hop on behind her. She gunned the engine and accelerated into traffic just as Vaughn wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. He spoke into his comm., "Where is she now, Eric?"

"Laurel Canyon."

Sydney veered to the left. "Shortcut," she called over her shoulder as she took a double flight of stairs.

"Ne-e-xt t-tim-m-mme I'm d-ri-i-i-ving."

"No one likes a back seat driver," Sydney grumbled under her breath as she cut onto a side street.

"They've stopped. Four blocks ahead on your right. There's no movement."

Slowing their approach, Sydney and Vaughn saw a black sedan stopped in front of an alley. They quickly parked the bike and looked for interior movement. Nothing.

Vaughn let his frustration seep into his voice, "Where is she?"

"What's happening? The signal's gone. It just cut out."

Sydney and Vaughn cautiously advanced on the car with their side arms drawn.

"The car is empty and we never saw her get out," Vaughn informed the rest of the team. He looked to Sydney, "I'll keep going down the street, you check the alley. See if you can spot Lauren. She has to be close."

The alley was narrow and teeming with people. Although it was early in the day, music blared from a nightclub nearby adding to the cacophony of people talking and horns blowing and the din of the large, crowded city.

Following Vaughn's directive, Sydney threaded her way through the steady stream of people, testing doors and checking behind dumpsters. She continued in that vein for the length of the block until she was convinced that Lauren was gone. "Base Ops, she's not here. I'm going back to the sedan."

"Affirmative, Mountaineer. Boy Scout, you better head back too."

Silence.

"Boy Scout, do you copy?"

Silence.

Forgoing caution, Sydney raced back to the spot where she had left Vaughn, feeling fear rise in her throat with each step. The car was gone. Panting into her comm. she hissed, "Where the hell is the car? It was just here."

""

Sydney sat at her desk staring blankly at the pile of folders stacked in front of her.

"Still nothing?" Weiss asked quietly, placing a conciliatory hand on her shoulder.

Her body slumped in defeat, "Less than nothing. It's like he just vanished."

"He didn't vanish, Syd. We'll find him."

She sat for a moment longer before standing abruptly. Without speaking, she headed briskly toward Marshall's office.

Weiss stood for a moment and watched her departing figure, his heart breaking for her. Just as he was about to turn away and return to his desk he felt a presence beside him. His body stiffened instinctively at having his personal space invaded. But when a familiar citrus scent made its way to his nose, he relaxed instantly.

"So what's their story?" Natalie asked as she came into his field of vision.

Momentarily distracted by her nearness he cleared his throat, stalling for time, "Who?"

Natalie nodded in the direction in which Sydney had just disappeared, "Bristow and Vaughn."

He gave her an innocent look, "What makes you think there's a story?"

Not buying it, she simply rolled her eyes in amusement.

Weiss sighed heavily, "You know Romeo and Juliet?"

"I've heard of them."

"Well, they've got nothing on those two. Family hatred isn't even the tip of the iceberg."

""

"Marshall," Sydney addressed him as she walked into his office, "where are we on locating Vaughn?"

"I'm working on it as fast as I possibly can. Cashew?" he asked without looking up from his monitor, continuing to type furiously.

Sydney shook her head and approached him from behind. Looking over his shoulder she recognized a city grid of 4B and the surrounding area.

"I find that a little something salty can be a nice variation from my usual sugary treat. Snacking actually helps me work, need to keep all of my extremities occupied…"

"Marshall," Sydney was firm, "what about Vaughn? What have you found?"

He glanced up and immediately resumed his work at double the pace. "Right. Focus. We've got to get Vaughn back. We'll find him you know, Syd. I figure that it's actually a mathematical guarantee because you're on the case. I mean, with your determination and personal attachment – he's as good as here. I'd probably be the same way if the man that I loved was kidnapped after I had just found out that his marriage was a fake and I could … uh… I mean, well I…" Marshall began to sputter as the implications of his statement finally caught up with his brain. He quickly reached for his handkerchief to mop his brow as he refocused on the task at hand. "I have been going over our recording of this afternoon where the signal cuts out. I hypothesized that there had to be some method behind the aborted signal…like maybe jamming by some kind of remote trigger, so I attempted to isolate the frequency. I managed to triangulate a location using...well, you get the idea. Anyway, I've just about… there. That's our location. I'll take this to Director Dixon right away."

Sydney scanned the screen, memorizing the address, "I'm going to Culver City."

"Uh, Agent Bristow… the odds of Agent Vaughn being at this location are infinitesimal…I mean, it's counterintuitive to return to a location that they know we can trace, actually if you calculate…"

"He's there Marshall," she cut him off with grim determination.

Catching the look on her face he didn't argue. "How do you know?"

"Because he has to be. Because I can't loose him," her voice broke slightly as she fought for control, "not again." Taking a steadying breath, she turned on her heel and headed for the door.

"Uh, Agent Bristow…" Marshall called after her, "don't you think you should at least tell Director Dixon where you are going?"

"You tell him," she said without stopping. "I'm going to get Vaughn."

""

Consciousness returned to Vaughn slowly. On his fourth attempt he finally managed to pry open one eyelid. Shapes and colors blurred before him, unrecognizable and indistinguishable. The only thing he knew for certain was that he had a pounding headache. Blinking furiously in an effort to bring the room into focus, Vaughn tried to identify his surroundings or recall at least some portion of what had happened to him.

A sharp jab to the kidney caused him to grunt and drew his attention. "Stay," a thick, guttural voice commanded.

Vaughn lifted his head from his chest and concentrated on the figure before him. Standing guard and looming ominously over him was the ugliest, meanest-looking human being he had ever seen. He was built like a crate, his bulging arms covered with tattoos. He wore a gun belt and a handmade holster designed to hold an Uzi machine gun, which was tied to his thigh western style. His three front teeth were gold.

It was a few seconds before Vaughn realized that there were bindings preventing his arms from moving. He fought ineffectually against the restraints as the ox approached him and injected the contents of a syringe into his arm. Fire burned the entry point and spread rapidly through the right side of his body. Vaughn clenched his jaw hard against a scream.

A noise from outside the room caused them both to turn suddenly. The door swung open. Bright lights scorched his eyes and Vaughn reeled back, blinking. Haloed in shimmering bright lights was Sydney. He squinted and stared as the hulk moved toward the threat.

With an inarticulate roar the guard lunged at Sydney, fists like iron swinging at her head. She ducked, nimbly dodging inside the blows and then kicked hard, making a satisfying crack when she connected the toe of her boot with his kneecap.

Growling, he fell to the floor, both hands instinctively reaching for his shattered knee. Sydney took advantage of his distraction, planting a brutal uppercut that landed solidly on the gorilla's jaw and sent him skidding across the concrete floor until his skull made contact with a nearby brick wall.

Shaking his head to clear it, the guard flailed wildly for his weapon. Sydney anticipated the move, taking two long strides before reaching across her body and grasping the wrist of his gun hand, lashing out with two fast lefts, slamming into the corner of his jaw, just under the ear. The blows snapped the goon's head back causing him to spin, falling face forward onto the concrete floor.

Sydney stood and crossed quickly to Vaughn, reaching out to cup his cheek gently. "Vaughn?"

Vaughn struggled to raise his eyes to her face. Whatever the guard had given him, it was making both his cognition and motor skills sluggish.

"Syd?" His voice was rough and unsteady.

"Come on, lets get you out of here." Sydney reached down, slit the bindings on Vaughn's arms and pulled him to his feet. He swayed dangerously, anchoring himself to Sydney, fighting against the increasing blackness as she led him out the door. As she made her way through the building, Vaughn followed blindly, knowing that he could trust her. He tried to keep steady but couldn't stop himself from lurching against the wall periodically as he attempted to navigate a narrow hallway and descend a flight of stairs, his pallor worsening with every step. The last thing he remembered was Sydney's face as he collapsed into her arms.


	16. Bluffing

Hey there you crazy readers! Alias is BACK! Granted, it's back with two bob wigs (gag) in one show, but I suppose I can get over it since they had spy!sex. And _that_, my friends, I am all for. I wish Vaughn was a little more into it… but I can understand that he has his reasons. As long as he gets over it, we'll be cool. Anyway… thanks for reading and hang in there – we're almost done (sorta kinda)!

-Bluffing-

"So you were drugged and then drug?"

"Yes."

"By your wife and then the woman you love."

"Yes."

"Maybe you should rethink your choice in women."

From his perch on the corner of Weiss' desk, Vaughn eyed his friend with annoyance.

Weiss offered a halfhearted shrug. "It was just a suggestion." He decided to change the subject, "So, you're feeling better now?"

"Yes," Vaughn affirmed, "once Sydney carried me out of there and the drugs wore off I was fine."

As the object of their conversation walked across the Rotunda and took a seat at her desk Vaughn tracked her movement discretely. "She saved me."

Weiss considered that for a moment and then nodded. "She always does."

The two men watched from a distance as Natalie hesitantly approached Sydney. They shook hands briefly before launching into lively conversation.

Weiss propped a hip on the desk next to Vaughn, folding his arms across his chest as he continued to watch the scene unfold. "Looks like Syd might have found a friend," he observed.

Vaughn cracked a smile. "You should see her with my sister."

"Ella? They're really hitting it off, huh?"

"Oh yeah," Vaughn responded, still unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. "They went out once and now they're attached at the hip."

The pieces of a plan began to take shape in Weiss' mind. "Hey, buddy," he shooed Vaughn off his desk, "I've got some work to do. Why don't you go be productive."

Too involved in staring at Sydney to notice his friend's uncharacteristic brush-off, Vaughn followed orders and headed off to his workstation. As soon as he was out of earshot, Weiss picked up the phone and dialed.

""

Sydney sat at her desk writing both her report and formal letter of apology for pursuing an unauthorized mission. On one hand she hated the bureaucratic portion of her job, but on the other hand she did enjoy the hint of normalcy that it added to her life. She was pondering the benefits of being ordinary when her cell phone rang.

"Hey," she answered brightly after looking at the display. "What's up, El?"

"The stock market, I hope. What're you doing?"

Sydney wedged the phone to her shoulder. Looking down at the papers in front of her, she sighed. "Apologizing for my blatant disregard of protocol and disrespect for the chain of command."

"Typical spy stuff, huh?" Ella teased.

"You got it," Sydney chuckled, running a finger across her slightly bruised knuckles.

"You want to come over tonight? Andrew and I were thinking a little poker night was in order."

Sydney eagerly accepted, "I'm in."

Ella smiled. So far, so good. Time for phase two. "So, do you think you could bring someone? Even out the numbers?"

Sydney thought for a moment. "Actually, yes. I just met a girl today, Natalie, she seems like she would be a great addition."

"Wonderful," Ella said, shaking her head. _Damn, Eric is good._ "I'll see you at seven."

Ella hung up with Sydney and immediately placed a second call.

"What do you want?" asked the gruff voice on the other end of the line.

"A winning lottery ticket."

"Then you're barking up the wrong tree."

"Shoot. I suppose I'll settle for the winnings I will get off of you tonight, then."

Vaughn raised his eyebrows, "Poker night? We haven't had one of those forever."

She struggled not to sound overly anxious for him to accept. "So, you're in?"

"Definitely." Piece of cake.

"Why don't you be a dear and bring Eric, too? Oh, and the beer."

"Now I see why you invited me."

"I never tried to hide it. See you at seven."

"We'll be there."

""

"Why do you have your mischievous face on?" Andrew asked warily as he opened another bag of potato chips and poured them into a bowl. He had never really understood the practice of removing the chips from the bag, but his wife insisted so he chose to not ruffle any feathers.

"No reason," she unconvincingly evaded the question and reached for a handful of nuts.

As he set the bowl in the middle of the table, the realization hit him like an elbow in the side. "Tell me you didn't."

She tried to bluff. "Didn't what?"

"Didn't neglect to tell Mike that you were inviting Sydney and to tell Sydney that you were inviting Mike."

Ella regarded her husband with a touch of awe. "How do you do that? How do you know me so well?"

Andrew shook his head as he wrapped his arms around her waist, "My dear, you are many, many things. Unpredictable is not one of them."

"Would it make you think better of me if I told you it wasn't my idea?"

"No." He thought for a moment. "Eric's?"

She nodded. "Yep. Apparently there is a new girl at work he wanted to get to know. I invited her too."

"What's next? Are we going to serve oysters and play spin-the-bottle?"

Feigning annoyance she rolled her eyes. "No," Ella grinned smugly, "but I did dust off Twister – just in case."

She leaned in for a kiss just as the doorbell chimed. Quickly spinning on her heel she moved toward the door as Andrew called after her, "Maybe spin-the-bottle's not such a bad idea after all."

Ella opened the door to greet Sydney and another strikingly beautiful brunette.

"Hey Syd, come on in," she smiled broadly, stepping aside to allow them entrance. "And you must be Natalie."

"Call me Nat."

"Alright. Nat, this is my husband Andrew," Ella ushered the women into the living room.

"Nice to meet you," she said shaking his hand.

"El," Sydney drawled accusingly as she scanned the table, "why is it set for six? Who else is coming?"

As if on cue, there was a perfunctory knock on the door before Vaughn and Weiss entered the room without waiting for an invitation, continuing their rather heated conversation. Vaughn looked up to greet his sister and froze.

"Syd?"

"Vaughn?"

"Natalie!"

"Eric?"

"Andrew!" Ella scolded her husband, "Stop sneaking poker chips! Don't think I don't see you!"

Sydney and Vaughn exchanged slightly uncomfortable glances before Sydney schooled her expression to one of casual indifference. She had the distinct feeling that she was the focus of some not-so-subtle matchmaking efforts.

Natalie was perplexed. "Are you guys all friends?"

"Sort of," Eric answered for the group, covertly sidling closer. "Ella here is Mike's sister."

"But try not to hold it against me," Ella rejoined as she pulled out her chair. "Now, are we going to play poker or what?"

"Poker? This isn't Big Bud's Nekkid Ladies Lounge? Shit. Vaughn, I told you we should have taken a left at Albuquerque."

"Ha. Ha. Ha," Ella deadpanned, grabbing the deck of cards and beginning to shuffle. She jabbed a finger toward the table, "Now get your butts in the seats. I'm lookin' to make me some easy money."

"If you're really looking for easy money, you might want to consider Big Bud's," Andrew offered settling into the seat beside his wife. "I've actually seen you do a really spectacular… oof!" He rubbed the spot where Ella had just elbowed him. "So…" he cleared his throat, "on to poker."

A few rounds later Sydney looked around the room and couldn't help but smile. She was truly among friends. Sure, she was down about forty bucks, but it didn't matter. Not really. Okay, maybe a little, but she'd win it back.

"Earth to Syd," Weiss' voice broke through her thoughts, "You going to bet or what?"

She briefly looked at her cards before placing them face down on the table. "I fold."

"Chicken," Ella taunted as she threw a blue chip on the pile. "I raise."

"I fold."

"Fold."

"I'm out."

"Fold."

"What? I thought you spies were fearless! Why are you all folding?"

"Ella," Andrew interjected calmly, "you don't have the best poker face. We all know that you have a good hand."

"Yeah, you goof," Vaughn goaded, "Maybe if you didn't drool when you looked at your cards we'd think we stood a chance."

"Well maybe," Ella bristled defensively, "if you didn't drool every time you looked at Sydney we'd think you weren't a hormonal teenager!"

Weiss quickly scooted his chair back from the table and threw his hands in the air. "And the gloves are off, ladies and gentlemen!" he called, using his best sports announcer voice.

Sydney smiled weakly, "It's really impressive that they've managed to coexist for so long without killing each other."

Natalie cocked a knowing eyebrow. "I bet family gatherings are a real hoot."

"You have no idea," Andrew rejoined gravely.

"And on that note, I think I'm going to grab another round. Who wants a drink?"

A chorus of 'me's filled the room at Weiss' offer. Natalie stood to join him. "I'll help you."

As Natalie followed Weiss into the kitchen, the four remaining seated at the table watched with unabashed interest.

"Well," Sydney grinned, "I think Weiss has found himself a girl."

"Our little Eric is growing up," Vaughn choked dramatically.

"She certainly is appealing," Andrew offered, immediately receiving a quick poke in the ribs from his wife. "At least vary where you hit me," he complained good-naturedly, "I think I'm getting a bruise."

After looking over her shoulder Sydney stage whispered conspiratorially, "Do you think she's a Covenant spy?"

"Don't ask me," Vaughn hung his head and leaned forward on his elbows. "I'm obviously a bad judge of that."

"Aw," Ella commiserated, "poor baby."

"They certainly are taking a long time to grab a few drinks," Andrew observed.

"You know, you're right," Sydney mused thoughtfully. She looked meaningfully at Ella, "I wonder what's going on in there."

"Gee," Ella pensively furrowed her brow, "if only we knew how to spy on people."

"Leave it to my little sister to suggest subterfuge."

She grinned and retorted gleefully, "Like you don't want to know what they're doing."

"Frankly, I think the sight of it would be more than a little disturbing."

Ella looked to Sydney who was grinning wickedly. "I'm in."

"What?" Vaughn asked in disbelief. "You're going to go with El to spy on Eric when he very well could be making out with someone?"

"That's the best time to spy," Sydney stated practically, standing to put on her sweater. "No violence, no treachery, just good old-fashioned nookie. Ella," she ordered, "grab a flashlight."

Ella's smile was so big she looked like the Cheshire Cat. "Yes, Boss." She snapped off a jaunty salute, "One flashlight coming up!"

""

"Okay," Sydney whispered, "keep the flashlight low, follow me closely, and try not to make any sounds."

"Check."

Ella and Sydney stealthily rounded the exterior of the house and crept cautiously up to the kitchen window. Placing their fingers gently on the sill for balance, both women stretched onto their toes to peer through the opening.

"Oh my god!" Ella mouthed silently as she watched Weiss tentatively lean in for a kiss. She turned to Sydney and couldn't keep from whispering, "This is so perfect!"

After the kiss broke, Weiss began to speak. "I've wanted to do that since the day I met you."

"Me too," Natalie confessed softly.

He reached out and brushed his thumb gently across her lips. "I really, really like you."

"I'm glad, Eric, because I like you too."

Ella nudged Sydney excitedly with her elbow, nearly loosing her balance and toppling them both.

"Darling," Weiss continued, "Can I call you Darling?"

"Only if I can call you Sugarbear," Natalie murmured.

Sydney's eyes narrowed suspiciously but she made no comment.

"Darling, I was wondering if you would consider spending the night with me tonight."

"Sugarbear, I thought you'd never ask!" Natalie cried out as she threw herself into his arms.

"Then we can procreate like wild monkeys," he said, nuzzling her ear.

"Mmm…I prefer turtle sex. Monkeys take less than a minute to do the deed," she hummed into his neck, punctuating each word with a kiss, "turtles take an average of…mmm...18 hours."

"In my dreams, my perfect woman has always watched the discovery channel. Whatever you want Darling, as long as we can give birth to offspring that can play with the two twelve year old girls that are hiding outside in the bushes," Weiss finished with a pointed glare, meeting Ella's eyes through the open window.

Flustered, Ella backed away from the house as if burned, and then began to speak loudly, "Oh, look, Syd. I found my earring. Thanks for helping me look for it."

Sydney just shook her head as Weiss approached the window. "Gig's up, Ladies." He jerked a thumb toward the door. "Get your butts back inside."

"Damn," Ella scowled, exasperated, "and I thought we were really on to something. I guess I'm not cut out for the life of a spy."

"I have a feeling," Sydney mused, "that we were ratted out, and that your spy skills had very little to do with it."

"Mike always was a little twerp," Ella grumbled as they made their way back into the house.

"I suppose it wouldn't surprise me."

Vaughn gave Ella a suffering look as she stood over him, arms crossed menacingly and glaring. "I am not a twerp, and you two had it coming. I wasn't about to let you spy on them like that."

Sydney smiled, "Oh you and your morals. No fun at all. But speaking of fun," she rubbed her hands together excitedly, "Who wants a sherb-arita?"

"Whatever it is, I want one!" Natalie said trailing after the women and into the kitchen.

Sydney grabbed the sherbet out of the freezer while Ella reached for the liquor cabinet, pulling down a bottle of tequila and three shot glasses.

Sydney noted the glasses out of the corner of her eye while prying open the container, "What are those for?"

"For the pre-funk, of course!" Ella laughed as she spread everything across the counter and reached for the saltshaker.

"I feel like I'm in a sorority." Natalie voiced warily as she stepped up to the table. "Are we going to the frat house to do keg-stands after this?"

"Please," Ella rolled her eyes, "there is no need to leave here to find the party. Grab a shot glass, girls."

They both did as they were told and watched as Ella generously filled the small glasses with the gold liquid. The three women then in unison licked their wrists, and doused them with salt, only to lick it off again before throwing back the tequila. Each dove for the spoon to chase with lime sherbet.

"Okay," Sydney smiled. "This is fun and all, but I've got a better idea -- drinking game time. Let's go out there with the guys and every time Weiss tells a bad joke we take a shot."

"And when Andrew acts like he's my father we take a shot!" Ella grinned.

Natalie broke into a broad smile, the ladies' amusement was contagious. "And when Vaughn looks dreamily at Sydney we take a shot!" Natalie joined in, already feeling comfortable enough with the women to tease.

Ella winked, "Okay, but that happens _way_ too often. How about half shots?"

They looked at each other for a moment before sealing the pact, "Deal."

Sydney, Ella and Natalie walked into the living room, arms laden with liquor and sherbet, and resumed their seats at the poker table.

"So," Weiss couldn't help himself, "what have you girls been doing in there? And why did you bring out a tub of sherbet but neglect to bring a fourth spoon? I don't look like a lime kind of guy?"

"Okay," Vaughn began to deal, "let's get this game started. Seven Card Stud, one-eyed Jacks and King with the ax."

"Wilds are for weenies!" Weiss shouted, earning a glare.

"And this time, for a little twist," Andrew began.

"We're playing strip poker!" Eric finished for him.

Now five sets of eyes glared in Weiss' direction.

"What?" he asked. "We're not adult enough to play strip poker?"

"I'm married," Andrew said pointedly. "You don't play things like that when you're married."

"How about if I promise your wife I won't make a pass at you?" Weiss offered.

Without speaking, Sydney, Natalie and Ella each took a shot, followed by a spoonful of sherbet. The men only looked on, slightly confused.

"How about we just keep our clothes on for now," Vaughn said with finality before casting a quick glance over at Sydney. No, undressing probably would not be a good idea.

The ladies looked at each other briefly before Ella gave a half nod, Sydney rolled her eyes, and each took another shot and spoonful.

"Would anyone like to bet?" Vaughn studiously ignored the silent conversation that had just passed between the women.

"I would!" Ella said excitedly as she fingered her pile of poker chips. "I'll bet 30!"

"Ella," Andrew said as he placed his hands over hers, "Don't you think that's a little much for first round betting?"

Natalie started laughing and Sydney and Ella joined her in yet another shot.

Ella was grinning from ear to ear. "Okay," she confessed, "I set that one up."

"Alright, I give," Vaughn sighed, "what the heck are you ladies doing?"

"We're having a little fun, that's all," Sydney smiled.

Vaughn studied her thoughtfully. She truly was having a good time. There was a light there that he hadn't seen in a while – not since Francie. Maybe Sydney was finally starting to put her life back together. He smiled as he watched her take another shot with the girls.

"Well," Weiss broke in after a few more hands, "as exhilarating as this evening has been, I think I'm going to call it a night. Come on, Mike, let's go home. And don't worry, Syd. This time I'll strap him to the couch. He won't be disturbing you."

"You ready to go too?" Sydney asked Natalie.

"Sure," she acknowledged, moving to the closet to retrieve her coat.

"I don't think you're good to drive, Syd," Ella said sleepily from her place in Andrew's arms.

"No," Sydney agreed, "no I'm not. Do one of you boys think you could drive my car?"

"How about I take Natalie home and you drive Syd," Weiss suggested to Vaughn. "I'll meet you at my place," he said before turning to Natalie and gallantly offering her his arm. "Madame, may I have the privilege of escorting you home?" She smiled in response, slipping her arm into his willingly as they walked out the door.

Vaughn took Sydney's sweater from her hands, holding it up for her to slip into. He then took her keys and kissed Ella goodnight before leading Sydney to her car. They drove in silence to Sydney's house.

"Vaughn," Sydney began quietly as he walked her to her door, "I'm sorry about the other night. I just…"

"Syd," he cut her off softly, "you don't have to explain."

"No," she insisted, stopping abruptly and turning to face him, "I do." She was still a little hazy from the evening but for some reason right at that moment she was desperate to make him understand, "It's just that… Vaughn we had our chance. We went through so much crap to come together in the first place and maybe…" She faltered slightly on the explanation but soon squared her shoulders, "Vaughn, maybe we weren't supposed to. Look at all of the problems it has caused for both of us. This could be exactly what we are supposed to be, friends. No matter how much I want --" she stopped short of finishing her sentence, immediately regretting that she had started it.

He took a step forward, reaching for her before she could put any more distance between them, pouncing on her words. "What do you want?"

The truthful answer was not the right one.

His grip was firm but he wasn't hurting her. She didn't bother to struggle against it. She couldn't move a muscle anyway, his intensity alone held her firmly in place.

He shifted even closer, attempting by his mere presence to assure her that he would move heaven and earth to make whatever she desired come true. Even if it killed him in the process.

A shiver ran through her and she clenched her fists to keep from trembling. She cast her gaze out onto the empty blackness of the street, fortifying her rapidly crumbling resolve. She felt tears begin to prick behind her eyelids. Fear was creeping toward the surface, threatening to overwhelm her. But she had to make him understand, no matter how much she regretted hurting him. Her response was nothing more than a whisper.

"In my life, there is so much destruction and so much pain, and for a while I broke away from that – but Vaughn, that's not my fate. And I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting."

"Syd," he inched even closer, wondering what kept her thoughts clear while his became rapidly blurred by her proximity, "you can't expect me to just walk away from you."

She only stared at his chest and said nothing.

"Syd look at me."

His nearness forced her to look up to meet his eyes. The pain she saw there was nearly her undoing.

"If you truly want to stop fighting, stop fighting _us_." Beneath his hands he felt her pulse quicken, watching as her lips parted, searching for the words to send him away, words he didn't want to hear.

He gave up.

Without invitation, Vaughn dipped forward and gently pressed his lips against hers. She didn't protest, lacking the means and the will to do anything other than to succumb.

After only a moment, Vaughn slowly withdrew, senses reeling, willing his heart to decelerate. He took a cleansing step backward, releasing his hold.

"You're fighting the wrong battle, Sydney. Let me know when you're ready to stop ignoring this."

He was gone before she had a chance to respond.


	17. Deserted

So sorry guys… I know I've been MIA for a while. But rest assured chapter 18 is already in beta…

**Chapter Seventeen**

Deserted-

"I'm smitten."

"Gee. You could have fooled me," Vaughn couldn't contain an incredulous grunt as he pulled up a chair and helped himself to a heaping plate of pancakes. "What with the getting up early and cooking breakfast while whistling, I thought you were your normal not-hopelessly-in-love self."

Weiss felt his face flush with embarrassment, then his eyes narrowed. "If you're going to be like that, I refuse to bestow upon you the fruits of my good mood," he huffed, reaching menacingly toward Vaughn's breakfast.

Vaughn stopped him with a chuckle. It was so easy to yank Weiss's chain that sometimes he just couldn't help himself. "I'm just kidding, man. Don't touch the bacon."

Weiss withdrew his hand and gave his friend a long look. "I'm guessing from your own demeanor that things still aren't progressing the way you'd hoped with Syd."

"You could say that." He gave Weiss a mild look of warning but said nothing more, returning his attention to the plate in front of him.

"The irony is that her being so stubborn is part of what you love about her," Weiss continued thoughtfully before dousing his pancakes with syrup and attacking the tall stack with his fork.

Vaughn managed a thin smile and then shook his head; this wasn't a conversation that he wanted to have. "Let's talk about something else."

"Oo, I've been meaning to ask," Weiss perked up, "do you know any good jokes?"

"The resident comedian is asking me, his straight laced and by-the-book friend, for a joke?"

Weiss rolled his eyes, "First of all, you stopped being 'by-the-book' when you met Sydney, and second … I'm looking to impress a girl. And while my rapier wit and acumen observations may have my nieces and nephews in stitches, I don't think that's the kind of humor that would go over well with Natalie. You're the green-eyed god that has a way with women. I need a little help here."

Vaughn looked at him askance, "You're serious?" This new besotted Weiss was going to be difficult to get used to.

"Yes," he answered with more than a touch of exasperation.

Eying him for a long moment Vaughn shrugged, his confusion obvious, "You don't need me to tell you a joke. Just be yourself."

Weiss sighed, though his eyes held an amused glint, "If I wanted that kind of lame advice I would have asked my mother."

""

Sydney sat in her living room curled comfortably on her couch, Vaughn's words from the night before tumbling rapidly through her head. Was she fighting the wrong battle?

The cold hard facts were that the more she let a person become a part of her life, the more harm would befall them. She certainly would not be responsible for landing Vaughn into that category.

That damn prophet. Why her? Didn't she climb up that mountain? Wasn't that supposed to clear her of this burden? _You cannot fight your destiny._ No matter how hard she fought, no matter to what lengths she had gone, the prophesy had always bested her.

Was she truly nothing more than a pawn? Nothing more than a foil to be used and discarded when purpose fulfilled? Did she lack the power to control her own fate?

What a waste of a life. A waste of a soul.

Maybe she was simply 'The Chosen One.' Giving into her feelings would hurt everyone if she couldn't even control her own actions.

""

The conference room was full with the exception of one seat. It remained empty though the meeting was scheduled to have started - Sydney glanced at her watch - six minutes ago.

Dixon's patience was wearing thin. "Agent Weiss," he barked, "go get him."

Nodding, Weiss stood up and started hastily toward the exit. Just as his outstretched hand reached for the door Marshall burst into the room, talking at full speed.

"I'm sorry, Sir… I…I just… it seems that…"

"Marshall," Dixon ordered, "sit down. You're late."

Marshall's mouth closed suddenly, and he stalked dejectedly to his chair, pausing every few steps as if to speak before being silenced by an ominous glare from the director.

"We have a situation," Dixon addressed the room. "Echelon picked up a disturbing pair of words…"

"Biological weapon," Marshall finished for him, then, realizing his breach, snapped his jaw shut and shoved both hands firmly over his mouth.

"How did you know that?"

Standing up, Marshall took an uneasy breath and began, "Well, Sir… that's what I was telling you – or, well… trying to tell you – when I came in. I'm sorry I was late, by the way, but remember when I said that there was something else on the Rambaldi page? Well, I've figured it out. It appears that Rambaldi created a formula for a biological weapon. An airborne viral strain."

"What do we know about it?" Sydney's concern was palpable.

"Well, we know that it is not good. Very, very not good. I mean, on a scale of one to ten, with ten being not good, this would have to be somewhere in the hundreds…"

"What exactly is it that we are looking for Marshall?" she attempted again to focus the easily distracted technician.

"Well, it looks like a recipe, etched into a paper sized sheet of glass." Marshall grimaced slightly, "It actually sounds quite beautiful… for a weapon of global destruction."

"It seems that the Covenant claims to know where this formula is located," the director spoke gravely, "but we do not yet have coordinates."

"Yes we do." All heads again swiveled toward Marshall. "The artifact is hidden in a cave along the Salado River near the Atacama desert in Chile. Apparently Rambalid wanted someone," he shot an uneasy look toward Sydney, "to be able to retrieve it."

"We must obtain this weapon before the Covenant. Sydney, Vaughn, Weiss, Gray -- You leave in half an hour."

""

"Pass the water," Natalie requested from the back seat of the Humvee as she fanned herself with her hand, "I'm about ready to turn into a pile of dust."

"You'd think this place hadn't seen rain for hundreds of years," Weiss observed from beside her as he passed a canteen.

Vaughn wiped the sweat from his brown, "How about a little water for the driver? After all, I'm the only one working right now; you all are just relaxing and working on your tans."

"Not in these desert BDU's," Natalie complained, leaning forward to hand the canteen to Vaughn. As Vaughn reached out to take the canister a bump in the road caused Natalie to lose her grip, spilling the entire contents down Vaughn's chest.

"Ah!" he yelped, swerving slightly before regaining control of the vehicle.

"Whoops," Natalie offered flatly, winking at Weiss. "Sorry 'bout that."

Weiss snorted but quickly subsided when Vaughn shot him a glare through the mirror. He turned to Sydney in time to see her broad smile. "Right. Thanks for all of the support pals," he drawled. "You just think you're better off than me because I'm sitting here like a drowned rat and you're completely dry."

"Never," Sydney recovered with a playful grin. "The thought never crossed my mind."

"Well, the joke is on you," he turned to Sydney, "you see, I am now comfortably cool while you, on the other hand, are uncomfortably hot."

"You've never been uncomfortable with Sydney's hotness before," Natalie piped up from the back of the vehicle, causing a red glow to creep up the back of Vaughn's neck.

"Aww Vaughn," Sydney chuckled softly before reaching over to help mop up some of the liquid from his shirt. For just a moment she allowed her body to slip into his personal space, one hand on his chest. Still focusing purposefully on her self appointed task she continued in the barest whisper, "You actually look good . . . wet," she observed quietly.

Vaughn's eyes flared for a brief moment, before his gaze hardened and lifted, refocusing on the road ahead of him.

Weiss couldn't take it anymore. "Alright already. Get a room people. Or better yet, I don't know, how about we find this biological weapon thingy that the side of darkness and evil is tracking down in this godforsaken desert as we speak."

When Sydney and Vaughn broke apart uncomfortably he turned to Natalie and lowered his voice, "The sport is in making them both uncomfortable at the same time, it's like shooting fish in a barrel if you just go after one of them." He patted her thigh consolingly, "you'll learn in time."

""

As the narrow road turned through a small break in the towering canyon walls, Natalie couldn't suppress an involuntary shiver. She had a bad feeling about their new position. The open desert trail had quickly given way and was now leading them into an increasingly vulnerable situation; on the right a steep grade covered with thick rock slabs, on the left the ground dropped quickly to canyon floor, now a hundred feet below. There was something dangerous about this, and it had all of her survival sensors buzzing. They had no place to go.

"This feels like a trap," she observed to no one in particular. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sydney nod.

"Something's not right," Weiss agreed beside her.

Unable to turn around on the narrow road Vaughn continued to drive cautiously through the burning afternoon sun while keeping a sharp eye trained on each crevasse, every rock, and any turn in the terrain.

"Down!" Natalie shouted suddenly as she saw muzzle flashes from behind a large boulder.

"Turn around Vaughn," Sydney ordered. "We need to find cover."

Vaughn ducked low and swung the Humvee hard left, in the tightest arc that the vehicle could manage, but his progress was hindered by the narrow road. They didn't have time.

Weiss heard a clatter and glanced down at desert floor. A small round object skittered toward them. His eyes widened in shock, "GRENADE!" He had a brief glimpse of the startled look on Natalie's face before he hit her with the full weight of his body.

His momentum carried them halfway out of the Humvee and into the air before the detonation blew them the rest of the way out of the vehicle and into the sand. They hit with a bone-jarring thump and rolled to a halt.

Stretching his body to cover her, Weiss gave Natalie the best protection he could from the thrust of the blast. A second explosion told him the Humvee had just gone up. He hugged the ground and covered his head, wincing as debris rained down on them.

Sydney groaned and rolled onto her side, holding her head. Her forced trip from the vehicle had left her covered with cuts from debris. She carefully propped herself up to look for better cover. A knot of fear clenched in her stomach as she spotted a motionless Vaughn a few feet away under a pile of rubble.

Heedless of the smattering of bullets that tracked her progress toward him, Sydney drug herself carefully to his crumpled form and quickly began yanking off chunks of metal, not bothering to protect her from the sharp edges. She winced when she saw blood flowing from a gash on his forehead. She placed two fingers on the side of his neck, tentatively searching for a pulse and heaved a sigh of relief. Vaughn let out a soft moan. At least he was still breathing.

Glancing quickly toward the burnt out vehicle, Natalie let out a short breath when she saw Sydney bending over Vaughn. "Syd, take cover," Natalie urged, turning to monitor the advancing unfriendlies.

"He's out, head wound," Syd answered tightly.

"Internal injuries?" Weiss asked, crawling cautiously toward the pair.

"I don't know, but I'm not leaving him," Syd responded deliberately. She didn't have to say more. They understood.

"Get him awake fast or we're all dead." Natalie hissed, reaching for her gun.

"Too late."

The sardonic voice echoed through the thick stillness that flowed in the wake of gunfire and explosions.

Shifting her aim in the direction of the voice, Natalie watched as Julian Sark stepped casually from behind a large outcropping of rock, flanked by five men brandishing weapons.

"You won't be able to shoot all of us, at least not before we kill all of your friends. You might as well relinquish your weapon now."

Seeing no other option, Natalie slowly dropped her gun to the sand kicked it firmly toward their destroyed Humvee, then took a determined step closer to Weiss as Sark's men approached.

"Sorry about the grenade," Sark continued, "the boys were a little over-zealous." He looked meaningfully at Sydney, "You know I'd never want you to die so tastelessly."

She bristled reflexively, "How thoughtful."

"I, on the other hand," Lauren strolled through the pack of guards and smiled at Sydney, "was all for it."

Catching a glimpse of Vaughn slumped unconscious on the ground, she inclined her head in exaggerated concern. "How is my faithful husband? I hope he's not hurt," she continued, her tone turning threatening, ". . . I was hoping to have a hand in that."

Lauren squatted down on her heels near Vaughn, "You need to wake up now Sweetheart so we can tell you about how you were duped into leading us here. You want to know all about it, don't you?"

She reached out and slapped him lightly, "Open your eyes when I'm talking to you," she ordered sternly. When Vaughn didn't respond, she hit him harder.

Vaughn grunted and slowly opened his eyes, squinting painfully toward Lauren. She smiled at him as she stood, "Hurts does it? Such a shame. "

Sydney's insides hardened in barely controlled rage. Heedless of the people surrounding her, she turned to Vaughn and placed a soothing hand on his face.

Vaughn felt her cool fingers touch his cheek and then slide up to forehead. He flinched when they hit a sensitive spot. That must be why he felt so dizzy. He forced his eyes open the rest of the way and took in the scene before him. Natalie and Weiss stood off to one side surrounded by armed guards. Sydney was with him, but both Sark and Lauren had weapons and Sark's was trained directly on Sydney. The situation was certainly not ideal.

"Vaughn, you're going to be okay," Sydney ignored Lauren's menacing glare.

"Don't bother lying, Sydney," Sark snorted in disgust. "He's fulfilled his usefulness by leading us here. At this point we are only using him for insurance that you won't try to escape.

"And while we're on that topic," he taunted, "you certainly knocked my estimation of your abilities down a few notches when you rescued Mr. Vaughn from that warehouse. I should have trusted Lauren when she suggested that as long as he was involved we could have given you a security pass key and you still wouldn't suspect a set up."

He turned to Lauren and smiled, "You were right Darling, putting that tracker in Vaughn was utilitarian as well as had a flare of artistic irony. Very well done."

Sydney met his gaze, her expression hardened, "You son of a . . ."

"Ah ah ah Ms. Bristow," Sark's acerbic challenge cut her off, "let's not stoop to name calling."

He turned to Lauren, "We're starting to loose daylight. Let's move."

Nodding once in affirmation, Lauren loomed over Vaughn while Sark stood sentry, his weapon still focused on Sydney.

"One more thing."

Leaning down suddenly, Lauren grabbed Vaughn by the collar and yanked him halfway off the ground. He barely had time to groan before her fist connected with the side of his jaw. Lauren released her hold and dropped him in a semi conscious heap. "That was for cheating on me." Gesturing to the men, she rose to watch as Sydney and Vaughn were bundled into the back of their vehicle.

A guard approached Sark as he stepped behind the wheel of the truck. "What do you want us to do with the others, sir?"

Looking over his shoulder toward Natalie and Weiss, Sark's response was deadly quiet.

"Kill them."


	18. Still Kicking

Chapter Eighteen

Still Kicking-

As Sark's truck pulled away into the desert one guard's grin turned into a feral leer. "He just said to kill them, he didn't say we couldn't have some fun with the lady first."

"Don't you dare touch her." Weiss took a protective step towards Natalie.

The guard looked at him with contempt, "Well lookie here, we've got ourselves a regular knight in shining armor." He narrowed his gaze, never breaking eye contact with Weiss, and approached him with slow and deliberate steps. "You know what happens to fellas who go chivalrous on us, don't you boys? They get put in their place real quick." Abruptly, the guard yanked his rifle off of his shoulder and drove the butt into Weiss' stomach. As he doubled over gasping for air, the guard spun the weapon, bringing the barrel sharply down across his head.

Weiss staggered as the ground seemed to tilt. He struggled to get one foot in front of the other, swayed even more and then collapsed to his knees, still holding his stomach and moaning softly.

"You bastard," Natalie pushed past the nearest guard, intent on reaching Weiss. One goon stepped in front of her, grabbing her arm to stop her. As his hand came in contact with her wrist, Natalie swiftly reached across her body and grabbed the small of his palm with her left hand. Yanking up and back across to the left, she pressed outward, forcing her assailant to twist his entire body to alleviate the pressure. A split second later she slammed the heel of her right hand into the back of his left shoulder, forcing him to the ground before landing a solid kick to the small of his back. He hit the ground with a thump and laid there a moment groaning.

Natalie kept moving as another guard decided to try his luck. He threw himself at her, attempting to use his weight advantage to tackle her. She pivoted just as he reached for her, bending her knees, dipping her shoulder, and then straightening again just as he made contact, using his own momentum to launch him over her body. He crashed directly into the guard who was only then attempting to struggle to his feet, their heads meeting in a sickening crunch.

The next man grabbed her from behind and pinned her arms to her sides. Twisting just enough to gain leverage, Natalie hammered an elbow into his solar plexus. With a startled grunt, the guard's grip loosened slightly. Taking advantage, Natalie picked up a foot and came down hard on his instep, just before swinging sharply behind her, unerringly finding the goon's nose with the back of her fist. He howled reached toward his injured face. Spinning, Natalie popped out of his grasp and landed a powerful uppercut on his chin, throwing the full weight of her body into the punch. He hit the ground and stayed there.

The sound of pounding feet told her she had run out of time. Gunfire erupted as the two remaining guards opted to forgo trying to subdue Natalie by hand. She heard the whip of a bullet pass by her head, and then white hot pain lanced through her shoulder even as she dove for cover behind the burned out shell of their Humvee. She clenched her jaw tightly to hold back a scream as she crawled further behind the shelter of the vehicle.

She focused her attention on her injury for a brief moment. _Through and though_, she thought in an oddly detached way. _Another swim suit season shot to hell. At least there isn't a bullet to dig out._ Gripping her shoulder tightly to try to slow the blood loss, she kept low and waited.

Suddenly everything was quiet.

"If you don't want us to gut your boyfriend you should really consider playing nice."

Cursing, Natalie spared a quick glance over the side of the Humvee and her heart jumped straight to her throat. The two remaining guards stood over Weiss, one with the barrel of his pistol pressed firmly against Eric's temple.

Leaning her back against the charred metal, she took a deep breath and attempted to asses her situation. Her gaze flitted briefly over her surroundings, looking for anything she might be able to use to get her out of this mess. To her left she saw the butt of her pistol, the one that Sark had forced her to kick away, now partly buried under the sand. It was a good five feet from her, but if she could get it free quickly she might stand half a chance.

"All right," she struggled to keep her voice neutral, "I'm coming out." Taking a deep breath she steeled her nerves; then it was time.

Natalie scrambled to her feet and took two long strides away from the shelter of the Humvee. Once she was half a step from the gun she bent down and in one fluid movement yanked the pistol out of the sand and threw her body forward toward the guards. She had just a second to catch the guard's startled look before raising the pistol and opening fire.

With only time for one target, Nat squeezed off two rounds and watched the goon to Weiss' left stagger backward. She was surprised she'd hit anything, diving through the air certainly wasn't a proven method to support steady aim.

As she hit the ground Natalie ducked her right shoulder and rolled to the side; she had to keep moving to draw the fire away from Weiss. Scrambling to one knee she spun toward the last threat. She looked up just in time to see the barrel of the guard's sidearm swinging toward her head. Nat hesitated for a split second as she centered him in her sights and then pulled the trigger. Her shot caught him just above the right eye. The guard was dead before he hit the ground.

Natalie struggled to her feet and stood there numbly for a moment, surveying the carnage.

Then she remembered Weiss.

Letting the pistol drop slowly from her hand she crossed over to him, her eyes traveling over every inch of him searching for injuries. She let her fingers brush lightly across a jagged slash along the back of his skull. He was still hugging one arm tightly to his abdomen, but other than that he didn't appear any worse for wear. "Are you hurt?" she asked gently, reaching out for his hand and pulling him up to a standing position.

SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1  
Weiss just shook his head silently, his own concern for her evident in his eyes. She looked exhausted and somewhat unsteady. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and dry, "I'll tie up what's left of the bad guys. Why don't you have a seat and catch your breath."

Nodding, SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Natalie slowly stumbled over to a nearby outcropping of rock and lowered herself to the ground. She suddenly felt a little light-headed. Pulling up her knees, she SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1rested her forehead and closed her eyes, letting out a long breath.

SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1The soft scuff of a boot alerted her and reflexes took over. Throwing herself in the opposite direction of the sound, she rolled to her feet, reaching for a gun that was no longer there. Frustrated, she tried not to wince. She blinked in surprise to see Weiss standing in front of her.

Slowly she straightened up and let a small smile pass over her lips, "Sorry, I didn't see that it was you."

"I'll certainly be more careful to not startle you from now on," Weiss smiled to set her more at ease while he cautiously approached her and lowered himself gingerly on his knees. He reached for her then, pulling her down next to him as gently as possible. "Are you okay? That was some show you put on." Carefully, he moved aside her torn jacked to get a closer look at her shoulder. Blood was oozing from beneath the hand she had clamped firmly to her body. Weiss tugged at her wrist and pried unsuccessfully on her hand. She had a grip like iron. "Dammit, Nat! Let go so I can see!"

Nat stared at him in exasperation, "Excuse me! I just single handedly saved your ass! Now you treat me like some fragile doll? I don't think so mister!" She jabbed an indignant finger into his chest, "I can take care of myself thank you very much!"

Weiss ignored her completely. He continued to unbutton her coat and then began to tear away the sleeve of her shirt while Natalie swatted ineffectually at his hands.

"I know you did honey. I just want to make sure that you don't bleed out on me. I'm going to require you watching my back for a long time to come and I want to know you'll be around to take up the challenge."

Somewhat mollified, Natalie let out a soft chuckle. "Is that so?"

"Well, I couldn't let you dance with all of those men without some sort of comeback could I?" Weiss smiled back. "This is going to hurt." He squeezed her hand briefly and then poured a splash of water over the wound. Natalie sucked in a breath with a hiss. He dabbed at the wound and took a closer look. Her shoulder would need medical attention, but she would recover.

Her eyes came up to meet his and he caught his breath at the beauty he found there. Her face was smudged with dirt, her hair was matted to her head with perspiration, and a small trail of blood tricked down from a long gash in her cheek. She was a goddess.

Natalie stared at him, "What?"

Weiss didn't answer right away, sitting back on his heels. When he found his voice, it was only a whisper, "You are so amazing."

Her eyes shone with gratitude and something more that he couldn't quite name. "Does that mean that after we get our friends out of this mess you're taking me to dinner?"

"Repeatedly" he agreed, and then he was kissing her.

""

The truck rumbled loudly as it traveled along the desert road. "How much further?" Sark's irritation was obvious.

Lauren examined the small black box in her hands intently. "According to the CIA's standard issue pre-programmed GPS, about 100 yards due east from our current location. We are going to have to continue on foot."

Sark pulled the truck to a halt. Quickly rounding to the tailgate he harshly drug a dazed Sydney and Vaughn from the back of the vehicle.

Throwing his automatic rifle over his shoulder he addressed Lauren. "I'll take Agent Bristow to retrieve the artifact. Wait here with our insurance. Remember, if I'm not back in 30 minutes kill him."

He paused for a moment and then suddenly grinned, "Oh, and try not to have too much fun without me."

""

Standing against the side of Sark's truck, Vaughn took slow breaths in a vain attempt to get the throbbing in his head down enough to hear something besides the loud beat of his own pulse. The hot late afternoon sun pounding down on him wasn't helping. He was going to need all of his wits about him to get out of this.

Despite her protestations of superiority, Lauren apparently wasn't taking any chances. She had chosen to restrain him, cinching his wrists tightly behind his back, the plastic ties from the bindings cutting deep fissures into his already bruised writs. Carefully he tried twisting his hands and felt an immediate twinge as sticky wet blood mixed with the sweat of his struggles and began to drip down his wrists and pool into his palms. His effort made no progress toward slackening the restraint.

Stopping her incessant pacing Lauren leaned over so her face was inches from Vaughn's. "I will enjoy killing you Michael," she said softly. "And that will destroy your precious Sydney. I will make sure that she has nothing left to live for. And then she will come to me."

"I wouldn't look forward to that if I were you."

Lauren's eyes grew cold and lost their expression, but the smile remained. Vaughn suddenly felt a chill creep over him. This woman was no longer sane.

"Why don't you beg for the lady's life at least," Lauren sneered. "Why don't you get down on your knees and do that."

He waited another moment, collecting himself for what would likely be his only opportunity. "You'd really like that wouldn't you," Vaughn whispered.

Lauren smiled an ugly leer, bubbling with satisfaction. "Yes," she hissed. "I would thoroughly enjoy that."

"Forget it," Vaughn snapped, and in one swift movement he slammed his forehead into her own.

Lauren staggered back, stunned by his sudden ferocity. Vaughn took immediate advantage. He came in fast, ramming his shoulder into her torso, sending her careening towards the desert floor and knocking her to knees. She whirled toward the sound of boots on gravel just as Vaughn slammed his foot into her body, sending her sprawling.

Vaughn shoved backwards and ran towards the back of the vehicle, arms still secured behind his back. Lauren's eyes widened. She swept her gun up and fired once. Sensing more than seeing her movement, Vaughn dodged to the side and the bullet sighed passed by his ear, ricocheting off a nearby rock just as he ducked past the open tailgate.

Falling purposefully to his knees Vaughn groped frantically for his ankle, trying to release his hidden boot knife. Grasping the handle he yanked the knife out of its sheath and began to saw blindly at the bindings on his writs, wincing as the blade slipped accidentally across his skin.

The ties slit just as he heard Lauren rounding the truck. Vaughn spun around to face her and Lauren skidded to a halt. Incensed, she gave an inarticulate growl and brought the pistol up, pointing it at Vaughn and squeezing the trigger.

Vaughn was even faster. He and lashed out with his right fist, smashing it into Lauren's side. Her shot sailed harmlessly into the dirt as she doubled over in pain.

Taking advantage of her distraction, Vaughn stood and took a step forward, closing the distance between them and loosing a well-aimed kick at her gun. Lauren's eyes widened at the shock of Vaughn's boot colliding with her hand. She watched helplessly as the gun flew from her grasp.

Searching wildly for some way to defend herself against the brutal onslaught, Lauren drew herself back up to a standing position and turned towards Vaughn just in time to catch a glimpse of a fist before it slammed into her jaw. Her head snapped back and she let loose a guttural scream, then staggered a few steps before collapsing.

Vaughn moved over to Lauren who was curled tight, eyes shut, her breath coming in short, painful gasps. He put his boot on her shoulder and shoved her over. Her gun lay less than 12 inches from her and she eyed it warily, before looking toward the knife that he still clasped tightly in his left hand.

Vaughn squatted near her head, making no move to reach for the gun. "I know what you are thinking," he said, as if reading Lauren's mind. "Forget it. You don't have the guts or the talent for it. Oh, and just so you know … I am going to enjoy seeing you living the rest of your days in a federal penitentiary."


	19. Crash

A/N – I know there are some weird formatting things going on with these last few chapters… the whole SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1 thing… I just don't know how to fix it. It's not in the document when I upload, and it's not in the document when I edit… so… I'm stumped. I do apologize for the distraction they cause. And if anyone knows how I can get rid of them – please let me know!

Chapter Nineteen

Crash-

Making her way up the winding trail, Sydney was thinking to herself that things couldn't get much worse.

Was this her fate? To bird-dog the world's most deadly weapon for a self-serving, arrogant maggot? For a man who felt so little for the value of human life that he would use the man she loved as bait to achieve his own barbarous ends? And she was his goddamned puppet? Bullshit. No. This was going to stop here and now.

Sark jabbed the barrel of his rifle into Sydney's back, jolting her out of her self-recriminations. "Keep moving. My buyers do have a deadline."

She felt a rush of cold fury -- enough was enough.

Spinning quickly, Sydney grabbed the barrel of his rifle with one hand and pulled, yanking it sharply to one side while simultaneously striking her other palm firmly against the stock, breaking Sark's hold and coming up swinging the weapon like a baseball bat. She connected with a satisfying thump, knocking Sark off of his feet.

Sydney continued after him and swung again, this time for his head. Sark rolled to his side and, bracing against the ground, drove a sidekick into her midsection. Sydney couldn't control her forward momentum and fell into the kick, dropping the rifle and spinning to the side from the force of the blow. She landed in a heap, holding her ribs and gasping for air.

Regaining her composure, she turned just in time to catch the full force of Sark's foot in her gut. The pain should have been enough to leave her doubled over, but her instincts had taken over and she was surprised to find Sark's boot firmly trapped in her hands. She wrenched his leg to the side, forcing him off-balance and sending him stumbling to his knees.

Sydney came up to her feet in one smooth, perfectly timed flow of motion. Sark, too late, tried to dodge out of reach. Sydney's right fist caught the angle of his jaw and knocked him tumbling to the ground. She rushed after him, intent on finishing the job once and for all. He had barely reached his feet when Sydney struck him again.

She advanced on Sark angrily, slamming into his body with the full force of a freight train. He tried to block her attack, but Sydney caught his wrist with her left hand and stepped into him, driving the heel of her right hand into his nose. It broke with a satisfying crunch and he swayed unsteadily as the blood began to flow. Sydney kept hold of his wrist, landing a punch directly into his abdomen. As Sark doubled over, she kicked him right between the legs.

Wheezing, Sark collapsed around her. Still holding onto his arm, Sydney heaved his body over her shoulder and hurled him onto the desert floor.

As he lay on the ground curled around himself, Sydney wobbled a few steps before dipping slowly to the ground from exhaustion, catching herself on her hands and knees.

The audible click of a pistol being cocked brought her head up. She turned to see Sark pushing himself up on one elbow while the other hand held a small revolver pointed directly at her. Sydney stared at him for a long moment before choking hoarsely, "Go to hell you son of a bitch."

"You shouldn't swear my dear," he gasped through panting breaths, "It is simply not ladylike." He tentatively touched a finger to his nose and winced. "If it's any consolation, know that I'll take no joy in killing you, Sydney. It was never about you. You were just a tool," he paused to take another labored breath as he drew slowly to his feet. "You have always been only the means to an end."

Sydney didn't bother answering. She couldn't care less how he justified this to himself. She wished he would just shut up so she could figure out a way to get back to Vaughn. She was startled back into focus when came behind her and hauled her to her feet.

SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1The fatigue combined with the quick change of location caused her senses to swim for a moment, and when they cleared she found the sharp prick of cold steel at her throat.

"Unfortunately, I need you alive for the next few minutes. That does not mean, however, that I cannot sedate you with something offering a little less finality than a bullet to the back of the skull. Now, which extremity can you do without?" She opened her mouth to protest when the knife jabbed painfully into the skin of her neck, breaking the surface.

Sydney went still. She could feel the thin trickle of blood trailing down her skin.

Suddenly, she lolled her head to one side and buckled her knees, trying not to cry out in pain as she felt the blade slice her skin. Caught by surprise, Sark tightened his grip and tried to keep her upright. He was unstable already when Sydney grabbed his wrist and twisted it outward, spinning the knife out of his hand. At the same time she reversed direction and threw her body into his, SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1knocking him backwards. She kept her feet moving, not wanting him to guess how shaky she was. She had to finish this quickly.

They slammed into the rocky wall, throwing them both off-balance. Sark's body struck granite and air wheezed out of his lungs. His knees collapsed and he fell straight down.

Sydney spun quickly, reaching down to jerk the revolver out of his waistband. In the span of an instant she had drug Sark to his feet and pressed his own gun firmly against the side of his head.

Conceding defeat, Sark retreated to his weapon of choice – his tongue. "So," he began, his breathing still ragged, "how does it feel to know that you are going to destroy the world?"

With a grim set to her jaw she answered him honestly. "I take solace in the fact that you'll be one of the casualties."

Sark remained defiant. "I've never been a casualty and I don't intent to start now."

"Pretty cocky words coming from someone with a pistol burning a hole into his head."

"I've been told my arrogance exceeds expectation."

"You should relish that," Sydney angrily pulled back the hammer. "I'm sure you have very little that exceeds anything."

"Ms. Reed informs me that I exceed your boyfriend by leaps and bounds."

Her grip tightened and the metal dug deeper into his flesh. "I try to avoid men who leap and bound," she ground out. The banal conversation was beginning to grate her nerves.

Wincing at the sensation, he continued through his teeth, "I think you and I would make an impressive team, Ms. Bristow."

"I could never work with someone whose loyalties were so flexible."

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he spoke. "They're not the only parts that are flexible."

"I forgot about your morals. Now, any final requests?"

He broke into a full smile, his eyes twinkling, "Try and leave the face intact," he swiped at the blood streaming from his broken nose, "as it were."

Sydney released the hammer and whipped the barrel across his forehead, hoping absently that she had left a mark. Frustrated that he had known she wouldn't kill him, she planted a firm kick to his stomach for good measure before looping a quick tie over his feet, then over his wrists, and rolling him on his stomach to bind his feet to his arms.

Tenderly touching the slash across her neck Sydney could tell that it was only superficial; but it hurt like hell and was continuing to bleed. Grabbing a bandana from her breast pocket, she quickly cinched it tightly around her neck, slowing the flow as best she could.

She shot a quick look down the trail to where Lauren was guarding Vaughn. Silently hoping that Vaughn was holding his own, Sydney resolutely turned her attention to the artifact. Continuing up the gruelingly steep path she crested the top of the cliff. The trail had led to what appeared to be a narrow hole in the rock; one that led straight down. She peered cautiously over the edge and softly cursed Sark for failing to bring rope or her repelling harness. She had at least forty feet to descend.

Easing her leg over the rim, she shimmied down, the toe of her boot finding hold on a narrow indentation in the face of the rock. Thank god for small favors. She soon managed to find enough pockets to descend into the cavern with relative ease.

When she reached the cavern floor the change from hot to cool sent a shiver down the length of her spine.

Winding deeper into the mountain, the natural light from her point of entrance soon gave way to shadows, ending in a dark tunnel that was three feet in diameter. Retrieving the flashlight from her cargo pants, Sydney placed it between her gritted teeth, dropped to her knees and began to crawl. After snaking her way along the dusty ground for what seemed like an eternity the tunnel finally expanded into a large cave. Finding her feet, she removed the flashlight from her mouth and began to survey her surroundings.

It took a moment to absorb the enormity of what she was seeing, and even then it didn't fully take hold as being reality. Before her stood over three hundred rectangular steel plates set into the rock wall. Each plate was three inches tall by five wide and bore the symbol of Rambaldi. Slowly advancing on the wall she held her breath as she lightly ran the pads of her fingers across the familiar indentation. When she rapped the butt of her flashlight against one panel she found that it was hollow. From what she could tell, each plate was a door to an in individual cubby.

Her eyes scanned the grid. Twelve rows, each containing nearly thirty columns. The artifact was behind one of them; but what was behind the others?

She hoped she didn't have to find out. Odds were that when Rambaldi created this monstrosity he did not allow for someone to go through them one by one.

She replayed in her head the debriefing with Marshall for some sort of clue to the puzzle. Had he mentioned anything? Any numbers or codes? No. The only thing he had said was that it appeared Rambaldi wanted someone to find it.

Realization suddenly swamped her. _No. It couldn't be._ Counting the grid she fought the overwhelming urge to throw up. Third plate down, twenty-second over. She wedged the blade of her knife carefully into the crevasse between the rock and the steel, loosing the battle to control the steady acceleration of her pulse. With one solid tug the plate gave way and fell to the ground. An empty compartment.

And then the walls began to crumble.

Behind her the cavern was collapsing on itself, throwing dust and rock everywhere. In front of her plates began to drop to the floor, each cubby collapsing in on itself. She spared a quick glance to the tunnel that offered her only means of escape. She needed to get out. Soon.

_Damn _it. Only one more chance to get this right. The intellectual side of her warred fiercely with her gut over what being right would mean. She didn't have time to deal with that now.

Quickly counting over seventeen in the fourth row down, she jammed her knife once again under the plate and thrust the metal forward, sending it violently to the dirt below. Reaching into the pocket she removed a slim leather satchel. Throwing it quickly over her shoulder she spun toward the tunnel, plunged herself into the narrow opening, and began to crawl as the cave collapsed on her heels.

By the time she reached open air her elbows and knees were bruised and swollen, her fingertips cracked and bleeding. She leaned heavily against the face of the rock and allowed for a moment to catch her breath. Then, unable to stop herself, she slowly pulled the satchel from her shoulder.

The object in her arms felt heavy. Maybe it was the weight of the burden it represented.

The hollow ache in the pit of her stomach only grew as she cautiously unwrapped the leather bundle to reveal an orange tinted sheet of glass no more than a millimeter thick. Sketched into it were a series of letters and symbols – the formula for biological warfare. This precarious piece of glass was so fragile and yet so incredibly powerful. The recipe for the end of the world could itself be destroyed by the slightest of breezes. The irony was overwhelming.

As she gazed intently at the glass, Rambaldi's words echoed in her head. _You cannot fight fate._ The man was a prophet. He predicted this would happen. To remove it from its resting place and deliver it into the waiting arms of mankind. It was her fate and it could not be changed.

_What a waste_,she thought as she hurled the glass into the solid rock that stood before her, the muted crash that reached her ears ringing a presage of freedom.

""

In Ops Center a lab technician working with The Golden End bore witness to the extraordinary event. As he held the artifact in his hands the code that the full resources of the CIA had been desperately trying to decipher began to change. Where there had once been jumbled symbols now lay coherent text. One single sentence.


	20. All Wrapped Up

(AHHHHH! I can't get ride of these weird formatting things! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!)

Chapter Twenty

All Wrapped Up-

SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Sydney felt the wind on her face and the ground beneath her feet, but she still wasn't sure she was really there, that she had truly done it. Looking down to the base of the rock she saw thousands of tiny slivers of glass. The destroyed recipe for the end of the world. Light from the sun that caught the small flecks shone into her eyes and she blinked to avoid the reflection. SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Unconsciously she took a step toward it, slowly, mechanically, and reached down to run her fingers through the broken pieces.

SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1In that one instant, crouched on her heels, sifting though the desert sand, she was struck by the thought that it had all become so surreal, as if she were watching her life unfold from some far distant place. But suddenly she felt hope – that somehow she had the opportunity to control her own actions, that everything would work out in the end.

But not without Vaughn and her friends.

Sydney cast one last look at the shattered glass before turning and plunging back down the mountain.

When she reached the point where she had left Sark all she found was bloodied sand. Her natural intake of breath came only grudgingly as dread overwhelmed her. "Sht," she cursed out loud. _I knew I should have shot him in the leg._ Unwilling to waste precious minutes in pursuit she didn't stop, continuing on in the direction of the truck, her speed increasing to match the racing of her pulse. She only hoped they were all still alive to be rescued.

As the truck came into view, however, she slowed. Bruised and battered though they were, Vaughn, Weiss and Natalie were clearly recognizable as they stood together planning what looked to be a rescue mission of their own. Off to one side, Lauren was bound and gagged.

Everyone was still alive.

Her heart was still pounding and her stomach was still tied in knots, but the air that had been clogged in her lungs spilled out in a rush of relief. Thank god they were all okay. The adrenaline that had gotten her to that point suddenly evaporated leaving her trembling. When her knees threatened to buckle from exhaustion Sydney leaned against the nearest outcropping and tried to force herself to breathe normally.

Weiss rushed to meet her. "You okay?"

"I'm alright," she managed, but her voice was distant as her gaze drifted over to where Vaughn stood. "I found the artifact, but I lost Sark."

"Well," he smiled, "you're only superhuman. Can't be expected to save the world_ and_ catch the bad guy."

Sydney rolled her eyes and smiled back in spite of herself, just being near them draining her tension away.

"So let's see this thing," Natalie said as she pulled herself to her feet. "Is it as beautiful as Marshall suspected?"

Vaughn laughed. "Leave it to a woman …"

Weiss cut him off good naturedly. "Dude, I wouldn't even go there. The lady can kick your ass. You haven't even heard the whole story yet."

Vaughn raised a questioning eyebrow and turned to Natalie, who just grinned.

"Actually," Sydney spoke up, "the glass didn't quite make it…"

""

Hours later Sydney sat quietly in the cabin of a CIA jet bound for Los Angeles. Weiss and Natalie were two rows in front of her, both sound asleep, with Natalie's head resting comfortably on Weiss' shoulder. Though she couldn't see his face, Sydney guessed that Weiss was grinning like an idiot.

Next to her Vaughn slept as well, slumped awkwardly in his chair. His clothes were dusty, his jacket was torn, and his face was covered in scratches and bruises. For a moment she just watched him. He looked handsome and exhausted, and thoroughly uncomfortable. Well, she'd made a fine mess of things now. 

She had been a fool, she realized. Her heart had spoken clearly and she had ignored it – instead listening to the ramblings of some fortune teller who had been dead for five-hundred years. She'd put her life on hold, and for what?

Her eyes strayed again to Vaughn. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was that she had almost lost him. But more likely it was the simple fact that her beleaguered willpower was no longer able to control the swell of emotions caused by being this close to him. Before she could stop herself she leaned down and lightly brushed her lips against his. Vaughn hummed contentedly and burrowed further down into his seat but didn't wake. 

What was she going to do now? There was no denying it. She couldn't stop it anymore. She loved him. But she was also afraid. Afraid of the feelings swirling around inside of her. Afraid of finding out once and for all which scared her more – the feelings themselves and the fact that they might overwhelm her, or that she might never experience them again.

How could he continue to love someone as hopelessly confused and as her? He simply couldn't. For both of their sakes.

"Vaughn, wake up." Vaughn woke with a start. It took a moment for his eyes to focus, and then soften as he saw her. "Syd," his voice was thick with sleep. "You okay?" he asked, his concern evident as he rubbed at his eyes and shook his head to clear the fog. 

_Here goes nothing_. She steeled herself and spoke bluntly. "Tell me it's over."

His head jerked up at that, his green eyes capturing hers. "What?" 

She tucked her lips in, willing herself to go on while he sat and stared at her with an indecipherable expression. Finally she dropped her gaze to her lap and stared at her tightly clasped hands. It was easier; if she didn't look at him she could breathe. "Go ahead. Say you don't love me anymore and we can end this whole thing. I've made too many mistakes, kept you at arm's length for too long… I'm so infuriatingly dramatic that I've driven you away. Just tell me so that I can move on," she demanded.

And then she waited. Waited for him to seal their fate.

He took a deep shuddering breath and studied the play of the dim cabin lights against her silhouette. "I can't do that," he whispered.

She struggled to keep her voice from trembling. "Why not?"

Vaughn risked a glance at her. She was watching him, hope and terror conflicting in her eyes. "Because it wouldn't be true."

The words hung in the air as they stared at each other. "You … you still want me?" she barely formed the question.

"I don't think there has been a moment that I haven't wanted you," he answered with the same unsteady breathlessness.

She tore her eyes away. "That's not how this is supposed to work, Vaughn. You're supposed to turn me away! End this for me because I can't."

A faint glimmer of hope crept through, but he was careful to keep it tightly controlled. "Why do you try?" 

She sighed, nearly successful in keeping the waver out of her voice. "I don't know." Turning away from him she stared vacantly out the small cabin window and into the blackness of the night sky. "Because I'm bad for you; a curse on anyone who cares about me." Her words sounded hollow, even to her own ears.

Sydney looked so lost, he realized. Even from this angle, Vaughn could still see the torment in her expression, the firm, tight set of her jaw as she struggled against this with everything that she had. "You wouldn't think that feeling this way would be so complicated," she mused so softly that Vaughn had to strain to hear her.

Finally she forced herself to turn and face him. "I just wish there was some way to make all of this easier. Vaughn, the cost of being with me . . ." She raised her shoulders in a hopeless gesture. "I don't know what to do about this. I can't keep hurting you." Sydney's SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1dark eyes were distant and her voice fell as she struggled for what to say. "No matter what I do, I can never make the right decision," she whispered brokenly.

She glanced away again but his hand on her arm made her turn back. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she told him something that made sense. Instead he carefully removed his hand from her and gripped his armrests to hold the temptation at bay while the adrenaline rush from the simple contact with her skin faded.

"This thing between us Syd, it's so powerful. Sometimes it scares me too."

Her eyes flashed. She was angry now, upset that despite all of the barriers she'd tried to erect, that she was so transparent, especially to him. "You think I'm doing this because of fear? What makes you think you know my reasons for anything?" The questions flew out before she could catch them. His presence, his just being so damn understanding causing the edge to her voice.

"Because I know you. Despite everything that's happened, that will never change."

The simple honesty in his statement made her chest ache. In an instant, all the pain, all the fear and all the wonder wrapped up in just being near him flooded her.

She twisted her hands in her lap again, focusing on her white knuckles, digesting everything that he had said. Eventually, she raised her head. There was no longer any anger in her expression. The sincerity and quiet determination in his voice had bled it away. She tentatively reached out a hand but didn't quite touch his knee.

SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Her breath hitched, sounding suspiciously like a sob. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you." She wanted to say more but couldn't make the words come out.

Understanding flickered in his eyes. "I know. And I love you too, Syd."

He slipped his hand down to catch hers. His fingers brushed against her thigh, and she had to force herself to concentrate to get her next thought out coherently. "How did you know?" she asked quietly, tightening her hand in his.

"I didn't, but I had high hopes," Vaughn replied softly, the makings of a smile creeping across his face. He slowly rose to his feet and Sydney rose in response. They simply stood there for a moment, staring at each other, and then he reached out for her. Sydney went to him without protest and Vaughn bent down until his forehead rested against hers. He tried to be gentle, but at the same time he was desperate to never let go. He could feel her breath against his chin, the warmth of her skin seeping through her shirt and into his hands. She buried her face in his chest, and let out a long, shuddering sigh. He moved his hand over her back in slow vertical strokes.

"I didn't know how to stop wanting you," she confessed, her voice muffled by his chest. "Even though I knew I was bad for you, I just couldn't …"

He nodded slowly. "It's all right. I don't want you to stop." He tightened his arms around her, relief seeping into his body. "Just please don't push me away again," he whispered haltingly.

She disengaged slightly to meet his eyes but kept her arms wrapped firmly around him. "I won't. I can't." Swiftly, she tugged him down to meet her mouth. "Not ever again," she managed, against his lips.

Two rows ahead, Weiss wiped at the moisture in his eyes and peered over the headrest, clearing his throat. "Umm, hey guys? You're going to have to break that up now, the 'fasten seatbelt' sign just went on."

"Shush you," Natalie rebuked Weiss lightly, poking him in the ribs. She cast a glance over her own chair to make sure that he hadn't disturbed Sydney and Vaughn. The way they were focused only on each other, she needn't have worried. "I think with those two together we all are going to need to fasten our seat belts. It's going to be quite a ride." She turned back to Weiss, her grin suggestive. "And you may want to take a lesson from Mr. Vaughn over there about proper etiquette while riding in a plane with the woman of your dreams."

"And what should I be gleaning from his example?" he asked, unable to wipe the silly smile from his face.

"This," she said as she pressed her lips to his in a searing kiss.

""

"Seriously, El, you need to work on your poker face," Vaughn laughed as he placed his cards face down on the table.

"Aw, come on," Ella sighed, "how am I supposed to win when you guys fold every time I have a good hand?"

"I think we need to give you a crash course in the art of deception," Natalie volunteered as she reached for the carton of lime sherbet that was currently melting in the middle of the table.

Sydney groaned loudly. "Oh no. I have a better idea. How about we leave her just the way she is? Here Ella." She reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. "I'll pay you twenty dollars to stay as innocent as you are."

The table erupted into laughter as Ella snatched the bill from Sydney's hand. "I suppose that'll do."

Weiss stood up from his chair and made his way toward the kitchen, shooting a long glance over his shoulder. "Hey Nat, want to help me grab some drinks?" He raised a playful eyebrow in invitation.

"Hmm…" Natalie grinned. "That sounds like a difficult task. I suppose you will need my assistance."

As Natalie trailed after Weiss and into the kitchen, Ella blew out an exaggerated sigh and shoved away from the table, slumping in her chair. "I guess we'll put the game on hold for a while. I don't imagine they'll be back anytime soon."

"It's probably better this way." Her husband patted her consolingly. "Even with Sydney's twenty you're still thirty in the hole, my dear," he teased, gathering the cards.

"And it's been thirty dollars well spent," she argued back. "You just can't put a price on fun."

"Wow." Vaughn rolled his eyes. "That was an incredibly dorky thing to say."

Ella remained firm. "But it's true!"

Sydney smiled as she leaned over and wrapped her arms around Vaughn, gave him a tight hug, and then drew back slightly to look at him. "It certainly is," she said softly.

Vaughn eyes darkened with intent. He raised his voice to address the room, though his focus never strayed from Sydney. He couldn't have looked away from her if he tried. "Come to think of it, I'm getting really, really tired." He made a show of forcing a yawn and directed his next comment to his sister. "I think I'm going to head home." Turning back to Sydney he winked and extended his hand as he rose to his feet. "Syd, can I offer you a ride?"

Her grin widened and she began to gather her things. "I would love one, thank you."

Ella shook her head. "Oh, gee. You guys are so tricky. Completely convincing. Very nice delivery."

Andrew tugged at his wife's arm. "Come on Sweetheart, let's go to bed so these nice people can go home."

"Yeah, yeah… just let me get the love-birds out of the kitchen. Too bad it would make a mess if I used the garden hose to shoo them away."

"We'll see you next Thursday, El," Vaughn said before kissing her cheek and escorting Sydney to the door.

"Goodnight you guys!" Sydney called in the general direction of the kitchen, "See you tomorrow!"

A muffled goodbye was their only response.

""

"Would you like to come in? Maybe have a cup of tea?" Sydney asked quietly as they stood on the stoop of her apartment.

"Hmm," he murmured, trailing a finger through her hair, "I think tea sounds perfect."

Both entering the house, Sydney threw her keys on the counter, walked into the kitchen and set the kettle on the stove to boil. Just as she turned the knob to ignite the burner she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist.

Leaning back into Vaughn's chest she signed contentedly. "So it all worked out."

He rested his cheek on the crown of her head and breathed in her familiar scent. "It certainly did. Rambaldi's recipe is destroyed, Lauren is locked away, and your fate is no longer predetermined."

Sydney turned slowly to face him and he watched with wonder as the twinkle in her eye turned dangerous. "Oh yeah…" She leaned into him until her body was almost pressed against his, their lips inches apart, and her voice dropped to a sultry note that he found intoxicating, "That too."

"Why, Miss Bristow," his own voice turned husky but he managed to maintain the breath of space between them. "I do believe you're trying to seduce me."

"Trying?" She smiled wryly and bumped his nose playfully with her own.

"Succeeding," Vaughn conceded before taking a steadying breath. "Definitely succeeding."

No longer willing to deny herself, Sydney brushed her lips ever so gently against his, barely touching them before she pulled away.

Vaughn responded instantly, not allowing her to withdraw, pulling her flush against him so that he could sip at her lower lip before tugging lightly with his teeth.

Sydney moaned against his open mouth when she felt his hand slide up her back to press against the nape of her neck. Her greedy fingers found the hem of his shirt and tugged upward. She grudgingly dragged her lips from his skin for the second it took to draw the fabric over his head and throw it carelessly to the floor before capturing his lips once again.

Anxious to get her closer, Vaughn tightened his grip, drawing her into his chest. His hands ran through her hair before trailing down her back and finally finding the buttons on the front of her blouse. He began to slowly unfasten them, one at a time, as their kisses grew more and more desperate. Before his fingers grazed the final button he stopped abruptly and pulled away.

Sydney's expression immediately turned guarded. "Vaughn, what's wrong? Did you not want … are you having second thoughts…"

Vaughn raised his hand to cup her face, causing her to trail off uncertainly. Almost of its own volition her own hand encircled his wrist and held it, mesmerized by the feel of his palm against her cheek. Vaughn slowly swept his thumb across her soft skin before moving his hand away and reaching deliberately for the stove, firmly switching the burner to 'off.' 

"I'm not going to let that whistle stop me this time," he said with a grin as he popped the final button and slipped her blouse from her shoulders.

""

Sydney lay in bed some time later, the moonlight streaming through the windows filling the room with a milky blue glow. She rolled onto her side, tucked her arm under her head and focused on the rise and fall of Vaughn's chest. Taking comfort in the steady rhythm and consistency, she found it impossible to contain a smile.

"What are you grinning about?" he asked without opening his eyes.

His awareness of her actions made her smile wider. "You."

Vaughn slowly opened his eyes. "Do I have something on my face?"

"No."

"Well then what's so funny?"

She leaned up on her elbow and rested her head in her hand. It was then that she decided he was drop dead gorgeous from every angle. "Nothing's funny. I'm just happy… happy that we're… together."

Vaughn turned to face her, suddenly serious. "You say that as if it's temporary."

"Well…"

"Don't even think that," Vaughn said firmly. "You know that I'll never let you get away again." Unable to resist, he reached to let his finger trail across the swell of her cheek before carefully feathering his knuckle along the tender cut across her neck.

"But Vaughn, it's not necessarily within our power to control. Anything can happen. You could be taken away at any moment…"

He cut her off by placing a soft kiss on her lips. "Syd, what did the artifact say again? I think I forgot."

She cocked her head to the side and shot him a grin before answering with monotone delivery, as if she were a child reciting by rote, "You cannot fight fate. You can only fulfill your destiny."

"Unless…" he prompted, tangling her fingers with his.

"Unless destiny grants you the power to choose your own fate."

"So I figure," Vaughn whispered against her skin as he pulled her snugly against him, "that as long as I have you on my side, I've got fate in my corner."

She shook her head, eyes shining. "Oh you do, do you?"

"Yes, I do," he replied confidently.

Sydney stretched to reach his mouth. "Then you, Mr. Vaughn," she said between kisses, "are a very lucky man." With a contented hum Sydney leaned back down and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, wrapping her arm securely across his waist.

"Goodnight, Michael," she murmured into the broad expanse of his chest.

He kissed her forehead softly. "Syd, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

She propped herself up again, waiting for him to continue.

"You said that in the cavern there were hundreds of compartments and that the wrong ones were triggers that caused the walls to collapse."

"Yeah, well, as far as I could tell," she trailed off, pausing for a moment as she traced his collarbone with her fingertip. "I didn't open them all to test my theory."

"But if that's the case, how did you manage to find the right one before the entire wall was destroyed? How did you know which one the artifact would be in?"

Her finger continued the journey down the middle of his chest; she couldn't tell if the action was caused by an effort to distract herself or if she truly just couldn't stop touching him. Probably the latter. Feeling the rise of an uneven breath beneath her hand she looked up to find his warm eyes shining at her though the darkness. She slid her gaze away and bit her lip uncertainly. "I tried hers first. I thought… hoped… but it wasn't." She finally pulled her hand away and shifted uncomfortably before continuing in a hushed tone, "The whole time, Vaughn, it was me. She was right. It wasn't her. It was me."

"Syd, I don't understand."

"It was my birthday."

""""""""""

The End

""""""""""

Well, that's it, with a small epilogue to follow hopefully within the week.

Thanks to all of those who have stuck with me this far on my first attempt at writing anything. To think, all I wanted to do was write that opening wedding scene ... I guess this sort of got away from me. 

Anyway, I have appreciated all of the feedback, both supportive and constructive. It really makes the whole process a worthwhile exercise.

Allie


	21. Epilogue

Epilogue-

She extended her finger into the night sky and indicated the distant knot of stars. "And that's Cassiopeia."

He raised his eyebrows and leaned against the bench, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankles. "And why do I need to know this?" he asked absently.

She smiled at him, her lips quirking slightly at the corners, before tugging her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. "Doesn't it interest you?" She studied them again for a moment. "Isn't it amazing that wrapped up in that cluster of stars is a mythological woman who was part of an epic adventure that has been passed on from generation to generation for hundreds of years?"

"I suppose." He hitched a shoulder and let it drop. "But it seems a little unnecessary and complex."

She shook her head before sighing. "Always the lazy ass."

He grinned guiltily. "You've got me pegged."

She laughed softly and bumped her elbow against his.

He angled his head to smile at the beauty next to him. Her brown hair swung gently over her cheek and she winked at him while shaking it back.

It was a breathtaking night. A sliver of the moon hung low on the eastern edge of the sky and the stars were just beginning to appear overhead. The thick darkness of the evening offered both safety and security; a strong counterpoint to the sheer vastness of the heavens that hinted at just how small a lone individual could be.

She let her breath out slowly and stared up again at the stars. "Do you believe in fate?"

He uncrossed and re-crossed his legs. When he finally spoke he voice was quiet, "Fate? No." He took a deep breath and added, "But destiny?" His smile returned. "Now there's something that I can get behind."

She blew out a soft laugh, "Is there a difference?"

"Of course there is," he assured her.

"Gee," she joked, "and all this time I thought they were synonyms."

He tucked her under his arm and rested his chin on her head. "Ah, my little grasshopper, you have so much to learn."

She sighed dramatically, "Alright, fine. How are they different?"

He thought for a moment before replying, "Well… fate is more…destiny has… well… they just are," he concluded firmly. And then, as an afterthought, "It's something you can feel."

"You're so eloquent," she laughed and cuffed him lightly on the arm.

"It's one of my better qualities," he agreed.

"Hmm," she hummed a noncommittal response. The air whispered over her skin and ruffled her hair. She inhaled slowly, breathing in the scent of fresh flowers. "So," she asked softly, tilting upward to study him, "do you think that Jake and I are destined?"

"Destined to what? Receive three or more waffle irons?"

"No," she began and then laughed self consciously. Sighing a little, she adjusted a strap on her sandal. "Destined to be happy," she asked after a minute, her face flushing at the question.

"Of course. Would I have helped your parents pay for this whole thing if I didn't think you two were going to be happy?"

"I guess not." She tapped her finger contemplatively against her chin and nodded decisively. "Thanks for your financial vote of confidence."

He patted her arm. "Anytime, kiddo."

"Uncle Eric," her lips quirked, "do I have to start calling you 'Dad' now?"

Weiss shook his head. "I don't think Mikey would like that."

She poked him in the side. "Probably not any more than he likes you calling him 'Mikey.'"

A voice from the doorway startled them both. "Hal, you had better get back in there. You are the main attraction, after all."

"Okay Mom," Hallie agreed. She shifted in the bench until she found her feet. "I'll see you later, Uncle Eric." She bent over and softly kissed his cheek. "And thanks."

"My pleasure."

Weiss followed her movement through the French doors and into the party, where she paused to offer him one last smile over her shoulder. His focus then turned toward the new arrival.

"They grow up fast, don't they?" she asked in a whisper, not wanting to disturb the cocoon that had enveloped the small patio.

"Ah, Syd, you're not going to start crying on me now, are you?"

"Maybe," she shrugged as she joined him on the bench.

"Well, stop it. I won't stand for it." His head angled toward the house and he brushed a finger under his eyes. "Only one of us can break down here, and it's going to be me," he insisted.

Sydney nudged his side with her elbow and rested her head on his shoulder. They sat quietly in the comfortable embrace until a throat cleared behind them.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he broke in with a smile in his voice.

"No." Weiss shifted slightly so that he could see the party over his shoulder. "In fact, I think I hear Natalie calling my name." He pushed himself to his feet and scanned the night sky one last time before slipping quietly back into the house.

"Hey," Sydney smiled and reached out her hand.

Vaughn took it and squeezed lightly, smiling in return. "Syd," he studied her face, searching for hints in the moonlight's shadows, "you alright?"

She angled her head back to the breeze. "Never been better," she assured him.

"Was Eric crying again?" his voice twisted on the words as he smiled.

She nodded in the direction he had disappeared and the side of her mouth tilted in a half-smile, "What do you think?" She wrapped her arms around her torso.

He shook his head. "I just hope it's not hereditary," he said grudgingly.

Sydney rolled her eyes. "I seem to recall another certain someone tearing up at the ceremony," she pointed out.

"Who, me?" he questioned, his eyebrow raised to punctuate his sarcasm.

She pursed her lips, biting the inside of her cheek to keep the smile off her face. "Among other people."

"Yeah, I guess," he admitted. "There's just something about weddings."

Sydney shivered slightly and tightened her arms around her ribs. He noticed the small shudder and slid onto the bench beside her. Wrapping his arms around her, he asked, "Better?"

"Mmm," she murmured and leaned back against him, lacing her fingers with his. A soft breeze ruffled the trees and made a set of wind chimes tinkle somewhere in the distance. She exhaled softly as she thought about the path that had led her to this moment. Her daughter's warm, happy laugh drifted from the house and she smiled. "So do you think Hallie will go back to desk duty?"

"Are you kidding?" He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. "You were a field agent until you were six months pregnant. You think a wedding is going to stop her?"

She tried, but she couldn't stop a proud grin from spreading. "I don't think anything could stop her. Maybe when she's eight months pregnant she'll take fewer missions."

Sydney stared up at the darkness and listened to the sounds of happiness echo into the night sky.

"You do know that when we have a grandchild," his gaze followed hers, "not only will she have Eric Weiss' blood, but she will most definitely become a spy."

A star slipped out of the heavens and her eyes drifted shut to make a wish. "Of course," she laid her head against his chest. "It's destiny."


End file.
